My Fair Claymore
by Tabitha12
Summary: A From This Day On story by Mary and Amanda. When an unwelcome guest arrives in Schooner Bay, Daniel and crew play "My Fair Lady" to keep Claymore from humiliation.
1. INTERLUDE

_**Authors' notes: This story takes place in August, 1983 in the **__**Day On**__** Universe, after **__**Charting a New Course**__**, but before **__**For Those Who Love**__**. Dash, Lynne, Sean, Molly, Bree, Blackie, Barnaby, Sig, Bron, Tris and the rest of the **__**Day On**__** characters belong to Amanda and Mary and may not be used without their consent.**_

_**All canonical characters: Daniel, Carolyn, Martha, Claymore, Candy and Jonathan, etc. belong to the estate of R.A. Dick and Fox studios.**_

_**Knight Rider**__** characters, Devon Miles, Michael Knight, Bonnie and KITT belong to Glen Larson and Universal Studios.**_

_**The wonderful lyrics of Gilbert and Sullivan's **__**Pirates of Penzance**__**, which is in public domain, are used in this story, and two lines of the song **__**Wonderful World**__** are quoted within, and belong to Sam Cooke, Lou Adler and Herb Alpert. **__**My Fair Lady**__** (our inspiration) belongs to George Bernard Shaw (Pygmalion) Alan J. Lerner and Frederick Lowe.**_

_**We would also like to thank the authors of the original GAMM canon stories: **__**Captain Gregg's Whiz Bang**__**, **__**Ladies' Man**__** and **__**Pain in the Neck**__**. Both authors extend their thanks to Debbie B. for some information about Claymore's car, to Judy M. for some help with ballroom etiquette, to our faithful readers for inspiring us to continue with these stories, and to God, for all things.**_

**My Fair Claymore**

Mary and Amanda

**1 - INTERLUDE**

**August 1, 1983**

"Come right in, Claymore," Martha Peavey invited the nervous-looking man. "The Captain and Mrs. Gregg are in with Dash and Dr. Lynne, but I don't think they'd mind you being there, too."

The lanky man gulped. "Are you sure? I mean, he's him and I'm me." He fidgeted on the doorstep of Gull Cottage. "Does this mean that Candy's already found a baby?"

Martha blinked, and then frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, I know Dash and the Captain aren't exactly the grandparents, but Mrs. Gregg and Dr. Lynne will be, and the guys will act like it, so that's as good as, isn't it? If they're all having a meeting, I just thought that it was a sign something good had happened, you know?"

"Strangely enough, I was able to follow that," Martha sighed. "But, no. It's not even been a whole week since Candy and Thom decided! Miracles take a little time."

"I guess," Claymore shrugged. "So, I can come in?"

"Didn't I just say so?"

"Well, yeah, but you've had time to re-think it."

Shaking her head, Martha led him to the sitting room where the discussion was so intense that no one noticed their entrance except for the two young cats who looked up with mild curiosity before returning to their nap.

"I don't think we need to be too concerned about who the birth-parents are, when and if the kids find a baby to adopt," Lynne said. "Candy and Thom, with all our generous helps, I'm sure, will be providing their — help me, Charlie?"

The noble ghost frowned and then smiled, "Spiritual DNA?"

"I like that," Carolyn beamed.

"Of course you do, I said it," Dash winked.

"Here now, old son," Daniel warned. "We each have our own wife."

"I am not about to forget it."

"I think both biology and upbringing are factors," the Captain remarked.

"I can't argue, but can you honestly say that the environment and so on is not the predominant one?" the doctor countered. "Look at Jon and Candy. Carolyn has good genes, but they're half their natural father, too. And from what I hear, he wasn't anything to write home about, once you got to know him. YOU were and are the father that shaped them, not he. And Alan was a great guy, but I don't see much of him in Thom."

After a few moments, Daniel inclined his head. "You do make a strong case. It would have been interesting to see if the true Gregg genes might have manifested in Claymore, had a proper Gregg, such as I, been the one to raise him. He did show some signs of improvement when I taught him to be me, albeit a poor imitation, for the sake of the Muirs, Emily and Brad, and Harriet." The last name made him shudder. "He even did well as himself when I schooled him for the Centennial games and his romantic efforts."

"Ah, yes," Carolyn nodded. "But I don't think the Centennial incident counts, really, Daniel. You possessed Claymore most of the time for that little adventure; practically from the moment you found out he had volunteered your silver service as the grand prize."

"Which he never would have done, if he had known what he had," the Captain chuckled. "But it was so tarnished; I do believe he thought it was scrap metal."

"Hey!" Claymore protested from the doorway. "No fair talking about me when I am not here to defend myself. Besides, I was not THAT bad, or that much as a-a-turkey, like Jon says. Those contests! I did win the deck swabbing one all on my own."

"Only after I knocked the bucket over," Daniel cut in. "But I do see your point, Carolyn. Claymore would have never won the harpoon toss, barrel stacking, fish cleaning OR climbing the mast if I hadn't been there to help."

"HELP??" Claymore interrupted with a scowl, "Possess me, you mean. And that isn't coaching, teaching or anything of the sort."

"You might have learned by observation."

"You didn't give me enough time to get as good as you. You don't become athletic overnight, you know. Besides, I have a factory reject body. I know that. I just wasn't designed for sports and other physical things. I rely on my business savvy and, well, other stuff to get me by. And I haven't done so badly—" His voice trailed off.

"Gotta love that fifth amendment," Lynne muttered.

Claymore scratched his head. "Which one is that again? Free Press?"

"I refuse to answer on the grounds I might incriminate myself."

"But I did answer you. Say, how come you guys are talking about me behind my back anyway?" Claymore took off his glasses and wiped them and stared myopically at the group. "I guess you do that a lot, huh?"

"Not really," Daniel quipped.

"Oh," he shrugged, and put his glasses back on. "So what is all this talk about trying to revamp me then?"

"I'm not quite sure," Carolyn smiled, "But I assure you it is nothing personal, exactly." She gestured to the low table in front of him. "Would you like a snack? Coffee or something?"

"It was personal if you were using ME as an example," Claymore insisted, reaching for a large muffin, but he stopped and glanced toward Doctor Lynne, and then took a small shortbread cookie instead.

"If you must know, old son," Dashire chimed in, "We were arguing the subject of environment versus heredity when it comes to raising children."

"I'm not a child," Claymore sniffed.

"You once were," Martha pointed out.

"Yeah, well so were you, and Doctor Lynne and Lord Dashire and Mrs. — Aunt Carolyn and even Old Spooky there." Claymore made a wave toward the Captain. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"Do you think you'd be different if you had been raised by someone else?" Carolyn asked as she shot her ghost a glance. There had been the smallest of thunder ripples as she had been called "aunt."

Claymore shrugged. "I dunno; I really don't. My mother wasn't anything like the outdoor athletic type and neither was my father. No stamina. I guess I inherited that from them. It's in the blood, as they say."

"I think perhaps Carolyn meant in general, not just athletics," Lynne cut in. "But that reminds me, Claymore, are you still exercising, as I ordered you to?"

"Well, yeah kind of. I, uh, yes."

"What does that mean?" Lynne frowned.

"Well, you said I need to walk at least a half-a-mile a day, but sometimes I do it a block at a time, throughout the day. I'll walk to Norrie's for lunch, and then walk back, or I will walk to the bank and then back to my office. Like that. I don't work up a sweat that way, and get my errands done at the same time."

"Sustained effort would do you more good."

"You just said a half-a-mile a day, you never said all at once."

Daniel shook his head. "You see, Dash? If Claymore had been raised differently, taught differently, coached differently, starting as a boy, before he had all these bad habits ingrained into him, we wouldn't be having this conversation,"

Claymore half-rose from his chair. "I am doing better! I am! Now you have to PROMISE me you and your — your GANG of ghosties aren't going to go haunting me and making me think I'm an inept ghost again."

Daniel chuckled. "No, dear boy, I promise we won't repeat that performance, but—" He paused, and turned back to his other guests. "I still maintain, that I — if given a free hand, in a month — less, if Claymore were to truly apply and dedicate himself to the job, that I could pass Claymore James Gregg off as a gentleman to be reckoned with anywhere: intelligent, confident, etcetera."

"Careful, Danny," Dash warned. "You are quoting your most famous role."

"Hmm?"

"Professor Higgins, old boy."

The other spirit rolled his eyes.

Claymore looked thoughtful for a moment. "Don't forget, I have been compared, favorably, to THE Gregory Peck!" he said, finally.

"Who said that?" Martha asked, hiding a smile.

"Paula and Betty," Claymore answered immediately. "You remember them, Mrs. Mu— Gregg's old college friends. They were crazy about me."

Carolyn bit her lip; he did not need to know it'd been a set-up. Before he could make a sound, she squeezed her husband's hand.

"And Aggie liked me too, after Captain Gregg coached me a little on the fine art of dazzling women," Claymore continued. "It's just that her other boyfriend, Stuart, beat me to the punch. He proposed over the phone before I could get the words out."

"Easy to say that in retrospect," Martha observed.

"We could have been happy," Claymore insisted.

"Claymore," Carolyn said gently. "We've gotten a little derailed here, and haven't even asked why you made the trip out here today. What can we do for you?"

"Well, obviously, I need a whole new personality, not to mention, lifestyle; to put it bluntly, a makeover," he laughed shortly. "But actually, I just came by here to say hi, and see if Sean and Molly and maybe Bree were around? I'm on the town council so I need to be kept aware of all the cotillion stuff, and since Bree is in charge, and I think Sean and Molly are helping with some of the music—"

"—As is Tristan," Daniel added.

"Right," Claymore nodded slowly. "So anyway, I just wanted to see how things were — ah — going." For a moment, it looked like the man was going to say something else, but he stopped short. "I guess if they aren't here, I should get going, then."

Feeling sorry for him, Carolyn said, "Keep your seat; tell us how things are coming on that front."

"What? The cotillion?"

"Yes, Claymore."

The older man shrugged. "Good, from what I know of it. Invitations have been sent out to everyone and anyone, I think. Even folks that most likely will not come will buy a ticket anyway, like Miss Grover, the Shoemakers. Sorry about that," he made a face. "And I believe Bree mentioned she even sent a letter to your — ah — 'cousin,' Daniel, I mean Devon Miles." He smiled. "Knight Industries will look good on the sponsorship list, even if Devon doesn't come, and he DID say he wanted to be notified. "You think he will show up?" A slight shadow seemed to cross over his face. "If Mr. Miles makes an appearance, you two look-alikes will be the talk of the evening, just like you were at the Irish festival last year; the second day, anyway!"

"I was always the talk of every dance I attended," the Captain informed him regally.

"But your dance card is full for this one," Carolyn added.

"Naturally, my dear."

"So, it might be a good thing if there was a spare Miles on the ballroom floor," Martha suggested.

"I don't suppose you've got a twin, Charlie?" Lynne asked with a smirk.

"There's just one of me, though I did have a cousin, during my lifetime, with whom I bore enough resemblance with to fool our mothers. He was into archaeology, never knew what became of Henry."

"Ahem. Anyway, the cotillion is just the FIRST fund-raiser Bree's got scheduled. Since Schooner Bay hardly ever uses the jail," Claymore went on. "Toward the end of August or early September, she's persuaded the Town Council to let her have a "get out of jail" money-maker. The local glitterati will be imprisoned, in shifts, and they get out at the end of the day or when someone donates a fee for them to charity. I volunteered, but I'll probably be getting Norrie's take-out prison food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner — again."

Daniel shook his head. "Claymore, if you hadn't tried to take my barometer you wouldn't have ended up in jail to begin with."

"But technically, it was mine," the other man protested feebly, as if already knowing what the answer would be.

"Then why did you sneak into the house?" Carolyn asked.

"The Captain would never have given it to me to sell voluntarily," Claymore shot back.

"Quite right," Daniel grinned. "You were in a — lose-lose situation there."

"Worse," Claymore shrugged. "I also ended up out the fifty bucks I paid Deke Tuttle to make the pretend one, and then I ended up paying Buzzie Fenwick a hundred and twenty-five dollars to get back the imitation one I sold him when YOU said I gave him the original, so I was really out a hundred and seventy-five dollars."

Carolyn shook her head. "Only seventy-five dollars, Claymore. The extra twenty-five to Buzzie, and the fifty to Deke. The hundred was just giving Mr. Fenwick back his own money, which was twice what you paid Deke to make it."

"But it was mine for a few hours! I really got to like it in that time!"

"You didn't come by it honestly, though."

"Does it count that I learned something out of the experience? I never tried taking anything out of your house after that. Captain Gregg's silver service I donated for the Centennial doesn't count. I had that, I swear. I think maybe my dad removed it from these premises a long time before. It's just that — Captain you DO have a lot of stuff. You didn't even know it was missing right away. I had to have had it for a long, long time, given how tarnished it was."

"I doubt it had been polished since it was pilfered," Daniel huffed. "If not cared for, silver tarnishes quickly."

"Agreed," Martha nodded. "It took me three hours to shine it up, once we got it home."

"I never used it," Claymore defended himself.

"Obviously," Daniel replied. "And Claymore, you did too try to take something else from this house. Remember our little seal friend, Algae?"

"He wasn't a THING, he was a seal," Claymore shrugged. "But you are right, I did, I am very sorry and now that you have brought it up again, can you just not mention it any more? I get the message, and right now I have other fish to fry, or something like that. Obviously Bree, Molly and Sean aren't around, so I guess I better go try to work out my issues on my own. Everyone can't be you guys." He stood. "Catch you on the flip side, all, I can see myself out."

"Claymore, I'm sure Daniel was not trying to insult you; don't go off mad!" Carolyn protested.

"Oh, I'm not. I just have other stuff to do. You know, mountains to climb, lobster to boil — whatever. Are you guys going to Bible study this week?"

"Of course," Dash replied.

"Well, then I will see you at church, I guess. I can always work on my inner self there, and the lessons are always interesting. Thanks for the snack. See you later, bye!" with a wave, the man had scuttled out to the hall and was out the door and gone.

"I just wanted to keep the facts straight and accurate," the seaman huffed, looking more than a bit uncomfortable.

"But everyone knows and sees their own life better than the closest observers," Lynne pointed out. She frowned. "I almost wish I had caught him before he got out the door and brought him into the office for an exam. Something is up with him. I just don't know what. You spirits—" She glanced at Daniel and her husband, "Are supposed to be able to see into the soul a little more than us mere mortal-types. Do you know what is bothering him? I think it is more than anything we said in the last half-hour."

"He did seem to arrive here sort of droopyish," Carolyn said thoughtfully.

"However, none of us, not even Fontenot, is Professor X; mind reading is not among our gifts," Dash told her.

"I KNOW that, but you all have told me over and over again, that you CAN see the real person, not their outer covering. So what could you see about Claymore today?" She frowned. "Professor Who?"

"A character in his comic books," Lynne smiled at the incongruity of a Victorian nobleman being fascinated by modern science fantasy illustrated stories.

"Oh," Carolyn nodded. "Well, could you tell anything, even if you aren't — what's his name?"

"That he is not altogether happy, which was evident to ordinary eyes even," the Captain shrugged.

"But more or less than usual, and what is bugging him, I just don't know." Dash scratched his chin. "But I've always gotten along FAIRLY well with him, going back to when we teamed up to get you two reunited, remember? Claymore really gathered himself together during that time, too, in his way, voluntarily coming under his own steam to meet a NEW ghost. It was around then that I gave him his _nom-de-plume_— 'Clay'."

"More suitable than his true name, which means a sword," Daniel quipped.

"Maybe he had a relative with the name?" Martha asked. "I was the thirteenth Martha in my family, going back about three generations. I would have rather been a Mary, but I like Martha better than Mable, which was also considered."

Daniel pondered and then said, "Perhaps on his maternal side, He's the first to have the name _Gregg_ with it."

"He ought to be a first at something," Dash smiled. "Still, I would like to know what is eating at him. He came here today looking like he has more on his mind that wanting to talk to Bree, Molly and Sean."

"Anyone consider asking him?" Martha queried. "I confess, I didn't think of it. Not straight out, I mean. I should have. Or one of us should've."

"Maybe he doesn't feel like sharing?" Lynne asked. "Claymore, for all his eccentricities, is rather a private person. I was thinking that just the other day; I had his med chart out to update it. I never thought of it before, but he doesn't have ONE relative written down to contact in case of emergency. Now, I know this is a small town, and naturally WE would know, just like we did when he had his heart incident back in August of seventy-nine. But that's really rather sad. I just never thought about it before."

"Could he be in love?" Carolyn asked, "His wistful quality today; it DID remind me a _little_ of a long time ago when he wasn't doing well in the dating circle."

"Are there any new women in town?" Daniel frowned.

"I don't believe so," Lynne answered. "And nobody has picked up and moved, either."

"His parents are both gone," Carolyn put in. "I never hear him talk about his mother or father, not since the little he said about him during that Halloween party we had here so long ago."

"Aye," Daniel nodded. "James Gregg went to his reward shortly after Claymore came home from his hitch in the Army in 1952: a heart attack; and I believe his mother died in 1957; some quick-acting cancer. To be honest, I only found out about both their deaths for the first time when Claymore came to Gull Cottage as an adult, not a child. I remember he showed up one Sunday afternoon, barged his way in under the mistaken impression that because he hadn't seen me since he was twelve, that I was no longer haunting my home."

"Had HE been back since then?" Carolyn asked, remembering Daniel's story of his first meeting of Claymore, on a Halloween long before.

"No, so how he would know what I was up to was quite beyond me."

"Maybe he'd convinced himself you'd been an illusion, albeit a damp one," Dash quipped, thinking about the bucket of water his friend had tossed on the boy Claymore.

"Or his parents hadn't mentioned any run-ins with the ghost?" Lynne added.

"Perhaps."

"I wonder if it would be at all helpful if one of us let the O'Caseys and Bree know that Claymore needs, or thinks he does, to talk with them?" Martha mused. "Not to mention, Tris. He is providing his minstrel service for the dance, though I'm 

betting it's mostly so he can avoid having TO step out on the floor with a certain young lady whose mama is pushing her down every single man's throat."

"I thought you were referring to Miss Hasslepickle, until you said 'lady'," Daniel winked.

"I was being kind. Since becoming the almost permanent regular organist at church, I ought to maybe be a bit less—"

"—Honest?" Daniel baited.

"Blunt," Carolyn suggested.

"I'll go with what she said, Captain," Martha decided.

"As you wish."

"Well, don't go too far, Martha dear," Dash winked. "Your frankness has always been one of your most endearing charms. Now, if Penelope is getting truly desperate, we might need to warn Devon to keep young Michael away from here, as regrettable as that is. He seems to be the sort to attract her, and I don't think the car would care for her company either. I also might want to—"

"No," Lynne said firmly. "Let Blackie and Bree take things at their OWN pace, Charlie my love."

"My darling, you are taking all the fun out of it!"

"How would you have liked it if the rest of the family forced us down each other's throats, instead of letting us manage our own love-life?"

"Which took ENTIRELY too long, may I say," Daniel added.

"I agree with Danny."

"Oh, pooh; you weren't ready either, and you know it."

"But I ought to have been."

"Stop looking over your shoulder, both of you," Carolyn scolded. "You got married when the time was right. Besides, I don't want to hear about long courtships. I am interested in the here and now and what may or may not be bothering Claymore."

"What's more, WE have the record on extended courting," her husband pointed out.

"Indeed," She gave him a soft smile. "But I wouldn't change anything. The issue now is to maybe go check on Claymore, and do what we can to help Bree get ready for the cotillion."

Dash cocked his head. "I don't suppose Jon has a date in mind yet?"

"I think he wants to be free to dance with a dozen girls if he so wishes," Carolyn sighed.

"Including the Hassen girl? He'd be better off with a date."

"Did you have anyone in mind, especially?" Martha asked, "Or is it that you just can't bear not having someone to match-make?"

"Just curious."

"Uh-huh, right."

"Really!"

"Actually, I was wondering if he might decide to take Bethany," Lynne put in.

"Is she around?" Dash lifted a brow.

"Well, I hadn't wanted to mention it before, because nothing was settled, but you remember, she was looking for a place to intern this summer—"

"Here in Schooner Bay?" Daniel asked, tugging his earlobe.

"No, but a friend of mine, James Watson, another doctor, who has an office in Pripet, is going to be losing his office clerk/receptionist, and I got inspired. Called Jon, and he had Bethany's number. She'll be here in about a week, and stay for the next month or so, until fall term at the university starts." Lynne smiled. "After talking to her, I think she would have paid to have a job, not the other way around. She sounded somewhere between lonely and stir crazy when I reached her." The doctor shrugged. "So anyway, she will be sort of in the area. James and his wife have a spare room for her to stay in, too."

"Sounds like a date made in heaven," Dash chuckled. "Then Jon won't have to be worried about Penny."

"Penny IS at least a year older than he is. Older even."

"That's not much to a desperate mama."

"True. But it is up to Jon to ask her. No pushing."

"Blast."

"Bethany's a sweet kid," Carolyn smiled. "When she brought Jon home after Thom's accident, I was very impressed. Thanks for helping her." She sighed, "Now, to help Claymore."

"Maybe he is just having a bad day," Daniel said. "He does tend to magnify his problems."

"He is a psychological hypochondriac," the doctor agreed dryly.

"Now, that's not quite fair," Martha interjected. "He did have that heart scare, and that bronchitis/walking pneumonia he got during _And Then There Were None _was no joke either."

"What I mean is he blows all of his problems into something bigger than they are, not just health related issues. He'll GET some real ones, though, if he keeps up the fretting."

"Well that's true. Still I would like to know what he is worried about. Remember what happened when we lost track of Elroy? We almost misplaced him permanently."

A remnant of his old self wanted to ask why that would be bad, but Daniel withheld his statement.

"Someone can give him a call later," Carolyn nodded. "Or pop for a visit," She glanced at her husband and Lynne at hers.

"I doubt I would be welcome," the Captain objected.

"You would. Honestly, Daniel, haven't you figured out a LITTLE about Claymore Gregg after all these years? He does admire and respect you, and his own way, I think he wants to be like you. He just can't. It's not in him."

Daniel grinned, "I could ask such a feat of no one, though some might come close." He nodded to his former crewman, one of the few men he might consider looking up to.

Martha rolled her eyes. "I hate repeating myself, but we are going to have to start building on that extra room at Gull Cottage again."

"What?" Dash and Lynne said together.

"To hold our dear Captain's ego, of course."

There was laughter all around.


	2. A DEAL IS MADE

**2 – A DEAL IS MADE**

For a few more hours, even after Martha left to go home to Ed, Dash and Lynne lingered at Gull Cottage and talked. As the time grew late, there was a knock on the door.

"Who could that be at this hour?" Carolyn wondered.

From her comfortable nest by the hearth, Dakota looked very disgruntled to have to get up and fulfill her guard-dog role, but did so.

"Far be it from me that you be disturbed—" Daniel said, grinning at the dog's lack of spirit. "Allow me." With a shrug that only dog's can make, Dakota settled by the fire again. "I'll be back in a moment, love," the spirit continued, and disappeared.

"Never walk if you can pop, huh?" Lynne commented.

"Nobody but us can see, and he IS a spirit, though half the time I think even HE forgets that," Carolyn answered, with a smile.

"Did he never tell you; ghosts don't forget?" Dash asked.

"Yes, but don't tell him he does, sometimes, but never anything that is important," Carolyn grinned, "Even if he did have the kids convinced for a while that he didn't remember his own birthday."

"He simply saw that they'd make a big fuss and go to trouble for his sake and didn't want to be a bother," Dash shrugged.

"We wouldn't do anything we don't want to do and we'll do it every year, regardless what he says!" Carolyn retorted. "Remember the year he said he really didn't want a fuss, and he _thought_ we really didn't do anything to celebrate the day, even when we did? He was NOT happy."

"Being forgotten is sometimes a relief, but often hurtful, occasionally, both," Dash mused.

"Right," Lynne nodded. "I think both Elroy and Claymore can attest to that. Everyone, really, at one time or another.

Just then, Daniel escorted Claymore into the living room for the second time that night.

Carolyn started to rise from her seat, but her former landlord motioned her to sit back down again. "No, don't get up, I shouldn't stay, you have company."

"They were here when you were earlier," Carolyn reminded him. "And they are not company, but family."

"Yeah, well, that's true. Your family, but I just wanted to ask, well, I guess it's a favor, and it's probably a stupid thing, and it can wait. I better leave—" Claymore added, and started to edge toward the door, only to find his 'uncle,' very solid, blocking his path.

"No you don't; tell us why you came."

"It can keep," he protested, and tried to duck out of the ghost's way, only to find Lord Charles Dashire blocking his exit.

"Oh, no you don't, old son. Now what is troubling you?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh yes there is," Doctor Lynne called out from her seat on the couch. And it isn't your health! Now what is it?"

"Uhm, well, Captain, did you — uhm — erk," he paused.

"I have been here all evening, so don't bother accusing me. Furthermore, I have not done that in years."

"I haven't said you did anything!" Claymore protested. "I just wanted to ask you a question, sort of a favor, really. Or maybe I want to hire you. I don't know."

"Hire me? To do what?"

Claymore breathed a heavy sigh. "Never mind; you won't do it, I know you won't. You're much to busy with your writing, and being married, and all that. I need to go—" He glanced toward the hallway again.

"You are staying right here," Dash almost barked. "Danny?" With a nod to each other, Daniel grabbed one of Claymore's arms in a vice grip and Dash the other, and together, they propelled him to the rocker Martha had vacated some time before and deposited him in it with a thud. "Now what's all this about?" Dash added, more gently. "You want to do what?"

"Hire him. Or, maybe you, too," Claymore said softly. "I guess I should start at the beginning?"

"In general, that's always best," Dash drawled.

"Oh, you!" Claymore whined. "But then, wherever you start is the beginning, isn't it? Thing is, I don't know whether I should ask you what I want to ask you, or tell you why I am asking you first. Do you understand?"

"I think the question should come before the explanation," Carolyn suggested, clearly puzzled and curious. And no, she did not understand.

Claymore fidgeted, unsure of how to start.

"Would you stop that?" Daniel asked; watching Claymore wiggle was rather annoying and made him edgy. Clay tried to comply, but the rocker creaked on, and still, he was mostly silent except for clearing his throat.

"Go on." Lynne prompted.

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" Claymore blurted out.

"I always say what I mean," Daniel frowned, and then, catching his wife's look, he added; "Except from time to time, I am prone to slight hyperbole and might appear to be overly harsh. However, I cannot be responsible for HOW you hear what I say."

"And I must ADD, with Danny's dry wit, it can, from time to time, be difficult to tell when he speaks in jest," Dash added.

"Huh? I mean, what you said about you could turn me into a real man, if you had free reign to train me, tutor me, whatever?" Claymore blinked. "Please say you meant it."

"You want Daniel to — what? Reprise his role as Higgins, in real life?" Carolyn asked as she grasped what he was saying.

"YES! By George, you got it exactly. Of course, I don't need to be taught how to speak or be a lady, but how to be a proper guy. Did you mean it? You probably don't need money, but I could be a — a tax write-off for you, or I'd fix — no, the house is yours, so all repairs are now your responsibility, but there's bound to be something that'd make it worth your while. Family honor?"

"It's a start," The Captain said dryly, rubbing his beard.

"Claymore," Lynne cut in. "What is this all about? Why this sudden penchant to make a new you? We're used to the old one, mostly."

"But there's always room for improvement," Dash chuckled.

"True for anyone," Carolyn added, almost sharply.

"Not everyone," their guest moaned. "Some people are too perfect."

"If you are talking about ME," Daniel grinned, "You must remember that I HAVE had an hundred and some-odd years to practice."

"As have I," Dash piped up, not to be out-bragged.

"And Tris," said Carolyn.

"And let's not forget Fontenot," Lynne added.

"I am NOT talking about spooks," Claymore sighed.

"Who, then?" Lynne blinked.

"My cousin, Reginald Nyland III," Claymore sank lower in his chair.

"Fancy name," Dash muttered.

"Most people call him Reggie," Claymore went on.

Carolyn frowned. "I didn't know you had any relatives, Claymore."

"On my mother's side; there aren't many Greggs."

"So, what's Reggie done to get you upset?" she prompted.

"HE'S COMING HERE!" Claymore wailed. "And I don't know what I am going to do!"

"Make him a reservation at the Inn? You don't have a spare room, do you?" Daniel suggested.

"No, you've seen my place! Uh — would I have to pay for that?"

"It might be polite, but since he invited himself, perhaps the burden falls to him," Dash mused. "But, why is he coming here a problem?"

"Because he is perfect, that's why," Claymore mumbled. "I haven't seen him for about ten years, but he is perfect; his job is perfect, his wife, Roxanne is perfect, his kids are perfect, his town is perfect, his house is perfect, his car is perfect, 

his hair is perfect, even his dog is perfect, and I am not — but I want to make a good impression. I want to be perfect, too — at least on my home turf, here in Schooner Bay."

"Claymore, nobody's perfect," Carolyn gently told him. "I'm sure Reggie has flaws."

The man shook his head violently. His ancient horn rim glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them back up.

"Nope, he was a perfect kid, whether he visited Schooner Bay, or I visited him every summer from the time I was twelve until I was sixteen, and he was STILL perfect fifteen years ago when he invited me to California to visit him. You remember — the year after I had my slipped disc and spent my vacation with you guys? I took a bus and spent my vacation with him. He's asked me to visit the last two years, but I've managed to get out of it. He loves being able to show me what a perfect life he has. I'm going to be a laughing stock I tell you; a laughing stock!"

"So this year, he has decided to come here?" Lynne asked, "Calm down, Claymore. You are going to give yourself another heart incident."

"If I was in the hospital, he couldn't come!" Hope lit his face until it crumpled. "His health is perfect, too."

"Claymore—" With effort, the seaman kept his voice calm. "What precisely does your cousin's visit have to do with you wanting me to perform a Henry Higgins on you?"

"I just can't take being ME around him. If you made me someone else, a real Gregg, he couldn't shame me, again."

"Again?" Charles scratched his head. Truly, he was not following the nerdy man's line of thought.

"Like he always does! I never feel like I'm worth two cents around him."

"I'm not sure I quite understand," Daniel interrupted.

"You wouldn't," Claymore shook his head. "You either, Dash. Dead or alive, you guys have always been cool."

"I think I know what he means," A voice came from the ceiling, and every eye turned up to see Tristan floating overhead.

"How long have you been eavesdropping?" Claymore scowled, not happy that yet another person knew about his problems.

"Just a few minutes, but I'd have found out in any case, so I just got a preview."

"Guess I should be used to it by now," Claymore shrugged. "But if you are going to join in, why don't you come down here so we can talk to you without breaking our necks, and how do you know what I am talking about anyway?"

"Very well," the spectral youth complied, drifting into a chair.

"You haven't answered my question," Claymore pouted.

"Claymore, everyone has someone, usually more than one person they feel more than the average amount of inferior or just plain klutzy around, or they have known someone that seems to be perfect and never does anything wrong; that is clued in with the right people; is married to the right person; that has the right job; gets invited to, or knows all the right places, or whatever. I know I have!" Carolyn stated.

"I thought that was YOU," Claymore said.

"No, not by a log shot," she smiled.

"But I feel like that around almost everyone! Maybe — maybe not little kids, or Elroy Applegate, but almost everyone else, and I can't be like that around Reggie. Not again. Not after so many years of trying to forget how klutzy and insignificant I feel about ME when I am around HIM."

"And you think Daniel can help you? Give you a crash course in becoming a more together you?"

"Yeah," Claymore nodded. "One, he said he could earlier. Two, he did give me that all-night lesson on how to be him when Ralph and Marjorie visited her the first time. Three, he coached me on the art of romance when Aggie visited. Four, he coached me again when I took Helen out for the second time. Five, he did another Higgins impression when Brad and Emily came to visit after he possessed me when Cousin Harriet visited. Six, he sorta terrorized — ah, coached me during the Centennial. Seven, he was the ring leader, don't deny it, when you guys had me convinced I was a lousy ghost, and he did all that when I didn't want to learn a thing! So I was thinking. If I was a _willing_ pupil, Captain Gregg could teach me to be like him, or at least a better me." He stopped suddenly to glare at Tristan, who was fighting to keep his lips from twitching. "What are you sniggering at?" Claymore huffed.

Biting his mirth down, the youngest ghost explained, "Just that you are going to be forced to never again gripe about one of us imitating the good Counselor Pierce and his numeration of points; you are doing it, TOO!"

"I am no—" Claymore began and then snapped his lips shut. "I am, aren't I?"

"You are," Lynne nodded. "But, all in all, there are far worse people than my brother-in-law to do an impression of."

"Yeah, I guess, but we're getting off track," Claymore scowled.

Daniel shook his head. "I would be taking on a Herculean task. Higgins had Liza living with him full time in the house, too. I couldn't abide — that is—" He paused and looked at Carolyn. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Besides, I can't think of a good way to explain your stay at Gull Cottage to the rest of Schooner Bay."

"When will your cousin and family, or is it just him, arrive, Claymore?" Tris asked.

"A few weeks," was the glum reply. "I dunno if his wife is coming or not. And it is the same weekend as the cotillion, thereby giving me a heck of a lot more to worry about." His watery blue eyes turned once more to his 'uncle.' "Captain, Gregg, sir, 

you just gotta help me! I'll do anything, almost anything, I mean I won't leave town, but—" He broke off, sounding helpless.

Dash shook his head. "Personally, I don't think it can be done. You have improved, Clay, in the fourteen years I have really known you, but you are an adult, not an infant, like we were talking about. Can a person change that much? I'd bet not, unless there was divine intervention."

"Aren't ghosts almost angels, though? I'll give you anything! Please."

"Is it that important, that you impress your cousin, Claymore?" Lynne asked, "After all, it's not like he is moving here, or even reporting back to another part of your family, like Carolyn told me her cousin Harriet did when she met the Captain — you I mean."

"Yes," Claymore snapped. "He's been one-upping me my entire life, and I won't, I just can't act like a nerd in front of him, or even have him think I am still one now — please."

"We are not junior angels, old son!" Dash shook his head. "Even Danny can't do what is impossible."

"How do you know unless you try?" Claymore pleaded. "I'd work hard, really I would, and I know more about you guys than you think. You can't resist a challenge, and I would be a challenge; you've said so."

"This is true," Daniel mused. "But Claymore, Carolyn and I ARE still working on our book — and I do have other commitments."

"Just four weeks of your time — and the other guys could help maybe? And perhaps Doctor Lynne and Mrs. Gregg — and remember, I still have to make a living, and sleep, so I wouldn't be taking all your attention. It would be more like me attending summer school?"

"Remedial Macho-Cool 101," Tris smirked.

"Oh, YOU!" Claymore sulked. "I thought you LIKED me, Tris!"

"I do, Clay," Tris smiled. "But would you honestly stick to it?"

"I would! I really would!"

"It might mean updating your wardrobe a bit," Carolyn warned. "The guys can't poof clothes on you like they can themselves, you know."

"I hadn't thought of that," Claymore paused. "I suppose it is really necessary?"

"Yes, it would be," Lynne nodded. "But honestly, you are due for it. Nobody has worn clothes like yours for at least ten years; maybe more."

The landlord bit his lip. "I suppose. Maybe you can help me find some clothes at Goodwill, or at least at a discount house of some kind? Women do make better shoppers than men." He sighed and rubbed his bald head. "This whole thing is giving me a headache already, but yeah. It's important to me — more so than anything else in my whole life, so, okay. Does this mean yes? When do we start?"

Daniel rubbed the bridge of his handsome nose. "I don't know. I haven't said I would do it, yet. But it is almost irresistible — there's so much room for improvement, one could hardly bollix it up." Then, he snapped his fingers. "Wait one moment, Claymore! We take our time to make a real man out of you, what is our payoff for putting our lives on hold for almost a month?"

"Satisfaction? Uh — I could give you a receipt for a charity write-off?"

"The charity would be only to YOU, Claymore, that isn't write-off-able, if Webster will forgive me," Dash chuckled. "You could pay us by the hour, and we could donate it to the Dashire Foundation." The rest of the room's occupants watched as Claymore turned a sickly shade of green.

"Stop teasing him, Charlie," Lynne scolded. "Claymore, I know you are torn between desperation, pride and miserliness at the moment, but what else can you suggest? Realistically?"

"I was hoping that you would do it for — nothing? Or just for the challenge?"

"I don't think so," Tris shook his head. "Try again."

There was silence in the room while Claymore did just that.

"Uh — what do you want or need? I don't think a florist shop would tempt you, and it'd cost me a ton!"

"Florist shop?" Lynne blinked.

"You know! Higgins said if Liza did well, he would set her up in a floral shop."

"You have it backwards, dear fellow. That's what Higgins promised her. But what did she offer to pay him for teaching her?"

Claymore's face brightened considerably. "Oh! She offered him a shilling per lesson! That's only a quarter in American money! I would pay you a quarter per lesson! Do we have a deal?"

"Nooooooo!!" Daniel moaned.

"Claymore," Carolyn interrupted gently. "You forgot the rest of that scene. You have to take the shilling in comparison to what Liza's income was in that day. Didn't Professor Higgins say her offer of a shilling from her earnings was equivalent to sixty or seventy pounds a lesson from a millionaire?"

"And back then, an English pound was equal to more or less five dollars, American," Dash added. "So that would be three-hundred and fifty dollars a lesson, times three weeks, which equals—"

"Don't finish that thought until I get my medical bag," Lynne cut in, only partly kidding.

"I — I can't pay that much," Claymore said quietly, looking defeated. "So your answer is no? I really would try hard, if you gave me a chance. I just don't know what else I can offer—" The phone rang at that moment, and Carolyn reached for it.

"Oh, hi! No, we are all still awake. No, tomorrow shouldn't be a problem. Drop by any time. I'll have a check ready. Sure. Not a difficulty in the world. Thank you — bye. That was Bree," she said, hanging up the phone. "She apologized for the late hour, but wanted to pick up our check for the cotillion tickets. She's trying to collect as much up front money as she can, to keep all the paperwork straight."

"That's it!" Dash exclaimed.

"You want me to donate to the foundation or buy your tickets?"

"No. If we do it, if Danny agrees, you give Bree her crazy cottage."

"Gi-gi-gi-gi-give?" Claymore gulped. "That's rather a steep price, isn't it? What about a month's free rent? Two?"

"Dash, I think you've found the right price," Daniel declared, ignoring the protest.

"But that's too much!" Clay protested. "You're asking way too much!"

"He might have a bit of a point, Daniel," Carolyn grinned. "On the other hand, Claymore, Sean and Molly are making a payment to you every month for the purchase of their cottage now. So in a way, you would be breaking even. No rent for Bree's place in exchange for payments you are now receiving for Sean and Molly's."

"But-but — Sean lived there rent-free for over ten years! And Molly joined him for another three before I started getting any money back!"

"Sean and Molly didn't LIVE there, exactly, Clay," Lynne interrupted.

"What do you call it?" he shot back. "Haunted? The still had the place all to themselves, and nobody else lived there or paid me rent, and I paid to keep the water on and for electricity, and didn't complain — much!"

"He has a point, Danny," Charles Dashire nodded. "But Claymore, I am interested in the welfare of my granddaughter. Her owning property would be excellent."

"I'd-I'd-I'dofferfreerentandelectricityandwaterforthreemonths." Claymore said in a rush.

"SOMEbody has been taking Siegfried lessons," Tristan Matthews snorted, and started floating toward the ceiling. "You'd do better to act like Adam than my brother. One Sig is okay, two? No."

"I was afraid I would stop if I said it slowly," Claymore muttered. "Now what do you say?"

"I'd rather she HAVE the cottage. After all; either way you lose money, so why not allow her to put down roots?" Dash argued.

"Sean grew roots just fine WITHOUT me giving him HIS cottage," Claymore argued, and took a deep breath. WhatdoyousaytoSIXmonthsfreerentandeteceera? Youcan'tbeatthat dealanywhere! Pleasesayyes!"

"He is making a rather magnificent offer, Daniel, Charlie," Carolyn giggled. "And anything can happen in six months. Bree and Blackie could — I mean to say, Bree could decide to find an apartment, or another place in town, maybe."

"Give her the option to buy and apply all rent from the past toward the mortgage," Dash pushed.

"You mean — six months from now, right?" Claymore paled. "And what is my guarantee? I mean that you guys can teach me to be a better — Claymore? To be a real Gregg?"

"If we fail, you don't have to do it," Tris shrugged. "Simple."

"O-okay," Claymore said slowly. "You guys win. Six months, but it won't start until after my cousin leaves, and if everything goes right." He shuddered and then looked eager. "So since I agreed, I suppose you want me to sign something? Can we start tonight?"

"Claymore, it's almost eleven. I'm about ready for bed," Carolyn answered, covering a yawn.

"But, a legal document would be a good idea," Daniel nodded. "Not an officially filed one, but Candy could even draw it up, as I understand."

"It'd be like our REAL marriage certificates, the ones with our actual dates of birth, something to be kept under lock and key," Dash approved.

"Great — fine — whatever," Claymore nodded.

"Exactly," Lynne chimed in. "Now, Tris, you're fresher than I am, and Charlie does better being chauffeured, so you will FINALLY get to drive someone home. We could give you a lift, too, Clay, if the coachman doesn't mind."

"I would pick up your car and deliver it later," the youth promised. "Adam did teach me well, and Blackie finally showed me how to work a stick-shift."

"I thought he was adamant about not doing so?" Dash asked.

"He's gotten much more agreeable, and I didn't think that was possible, in the last few months," Tristan shrugged.

"Somehow, Dash, I don't think you need to worry about match-making," Carolyn smirked.

"Wasn't worried, dear Carolyn, but it is fun to prove one's instincts to be correct."

Daniel turned to his 'nephew.' "You will be here tomorrow at what time? Noon? No, make that one p.m."

"Not the crack of dawn?"

"You did say you do have your own work to do. I assume you WILL be rising at that time to get it done; as you will be expected at Gull Cottage every day at one for class. And if you are late one day, barring a national emergency, you forfeit the cottage and future training."

"Hey, that is not fair! We need to negotiate terms."

"I thought we just did? I — possibly with help from the rest of the clan agreed to coach, train and do what we need to do for you to make a good impression on your cousin and you agreed to Bree getting free rent and utilities on the cottage for six months."

"I never agreed to not ever be tardy or risk forfeiture."

"I have other things to do besides wait around for you if you are late, or busy with some client, making money from what was MY property to begin with."

"Liza lived with Higgins. I could do that, and then go down to the village when I need to, if it would be easier."

"Uh — how would you explain that?" Tristan demanded quickly. "It'd look blasted odd, you know, and Claymore, the Tristan-mobile is about to depart; if you want a ride, best get aboard."

"I haven't had anything to drink. I could drive if I wanted to, and with regards to the other, I could always say I am getting my place fumigated, or something. Ed could back me up."

"Someone would figure it out," Carolyn shook her head and yawned again. "Speaking of which, though, Claymore, your place will have to be tided; perhaps redecorated a bit, if you want to impress your cousin."

"How expensive would it be?" he gulped.

Carolyn rubbed the back of her neck thoughtfully. "That's hard to say. Soap, water, furniture polish, floor wax — maybe some new curtains at the windows won't cost too much. I think the rest depends on how much free time we have. I might be able to convince Molly, Bron, and Jen into donating a free afternoon and or evening to do some fluffing. Siegfried has done fairly well at keeping your office area together. If everything were clean and tidy, I don't think too much will be needed. You living and working in the same place wouldn't be that out of line, not in a small town like Schooner Bay."

Claymore sighed.

"We can still cancel the whole thing," Lynne said. "But you need to make a decision, Claymore. Maybe your cousin will have mellowed?"

"Or you can always pray he decides not to come after all," Dash added.

"No I've got to do this. It's just turning into a bigger ordeal than I planned."

"I think you will find that your ordeal is not yet begun, Claymore," Daniel smiled. "Now say thank you, and go home and get a good night's sleep. You are going to need it."


	3. AND SO IT BEGINS

**3 – AND SO IT BEGINS**

Candy Avery, nee Muir, was trying to catch up on her invoicing when her mother came into Adam Pierce's law office around noon the next day, a paper bag in her hand.

"Martha sends homemade take-out," Carolyn announced.

"Wow, Mom, you came all the way to Skeldale to bring Adam and me lunch?" Judging from the size of the container, there was plenty for at least two, maybe three, if Carolyn joined them.

"It's for a good cause — causes, actually," Carolyn grinned. "I vowed years ago that I would not be in the middle of a situation between Daniel and Claymore, and I am standing by that."

"What do they have to fight about? Now, since Gull Cottage is yours?"

"Claymore is due there at any moment to become Eliza to your father's Higgins, in real life. I couldn't decide if it'd be a good show or if I wanted to escape, but since we need a contract drawn up for the lessons, I decided on the latter."

"Oh, another one of those official-unofficial papers?" Candy grinned.

"Exactly."

"So Claymore can't change his mind, or the conditions? What exactly is the bet?" Candy asked, "I just know Claymore doesn't want a flower shop."

"I don't know, have you PRICED flowers lately?" Then, Carolyn explained.

"Not to repeat myself, but wow again," Candy whistled when her mother had finished. "Claymore must be really desperate to impress his cousin — or really ready for a change! What did Bree say?"

Carolyn's mouth dropped. "Unless your Uncle Dash has talked to her, no one has."

"Uh-oh. One of you guys should. Can you get hold of Captain Dad?"

"He's busy getting ready; the lessons start in less than an hour."

"I don't know HOW Dad is ever going to teach him; Jon and I couldn't even teach him how to dance to rock and roll. He looked like a freaked-out scarecrow!"

"Maybe if it had been Elvis, not the Monkeys? That's more what I think of as rock and roll," Carolyn grinned. "But being — whatever it is he wants to be is different from rocking and bopping."

"You mean someone is going to teach him to waltz?" Candy laughed. "I hope he does better than the night of the Centennial when Captain Dad possessed him so he could dance with you!"

Carolyn turned bright red. "Candy! I didn't know you knew about that!"

"Sure," Candy shrugged. "I knew about that the night it happened. I just didn't put it all together until later, but I had come back into the living room to get my coin purse and there you were, dancing with Claymore and looking so happy — for a minute I thought it WAS Claymore, but then I heard Captain Dad's voice saying how lovely you were, and something about he wished the moment could never end. I wished it, too, but I thought I heard Martha calling me. She and Jon were already in the car, and I knew SHE would never understand you dancing with Claymore, so I ducked out, and you joined us a few minutes later. Claymore, too, but he looked kinda dazed."

"With good reason; it was tough on BOTH of them."

"I can see why Captain Dad wouldn't like it, except for getting to dance with you, but Claymore?"

"Having someone else control your body?"

"I suppose you're right. I guess I was thinking that since I figured out that since Captain Dad possessed him to win his silver back, Claymore would be used to it by that night. And dancing would be easier than lifting barrels or climbing the mast!"

"Without the frantic exertion, he could think about what was happening."

"Oh," she paused. "I guess I can see that. So, tell me, what EXACTLY is Dad going to teach him?"

"How to be cool."

"Well, Captain Dad and the rest of his crew are the coolest, but if Claymore wants to be as cool as them, he's fighting a losing battle already."

"Just cool enough to impress his cousin."

"I didn't know Claymore had any living relatives. This isn't the cousin he had who had a baby — what? About thirteen years ago? That's the only baby I know of. I mean, cousin."

"I guess his mother's side has more relatives," Carolyn shrugged.

"Oh. Okay. Look at you — your side has a lot more relatives than my father—" She rolled her eyes. _"_—_biological_ father does. There was never anyone but Grandpa and Grandma Muir that I ever met." Candy pushed back her bangs. "Him being the way he was, I always wondered if there would be any relatives I would have liked."

"Wish I could tell you, but I never met them if they exist."

"Just as well I guess. So tell me, anything I can do to help with this latest project? Gotta be easier that fixing up Jess and Adam's place."

"We just need an officially unofficial — or would it be the reverse? And unofficially official paper that lays out the terms."

"So you said, and I'm glad to, but I meant to help with the re-inventing of Claymore Gregg."

"Maybe store some breakables at your place? I foresee stormy waters."

"Who is breaking what? Captain Dad wouldn't break anything, except Claymore's head, maybe."

"I didn't mean on purpose, but if it gets noisy, Dakota and the kits will run for cover and they don't bother being careful."

"True. Sig's lessons couldn't solve everything with 'Kota and nobody can REALLY train a cat! I just thought a few basics? Or maybe Jenny and I could take him shopping and get him some decent clothes. I guess we could take turns teaching him to waltz, but it might be easier to use Bron or Molly for that. It wouldn't hurt them if he stepped on their toes! Or would it? They would have to be in a solid state for the training—"

"I have no idea. Good question."

"What do you think about my thought? That is, if Jen has time? We could go to the stores with him. Hey — how long has it been since Claymore got his eyes checked? From the looks of his frames, it's been forever. I bet his prescription should be stronger. I've seen him squint. He'd look good in an updated pair of glasses, or maybe contact lenses?"

"Glasses help in his case. His eyes are sort of beady without them."

Candy giggled. "You have a point. Clark Kent to Superman he is not. Okay. Think Lynne can talk him into getting his eyes checked? I just know his eyes have gotten worse. The cotillion is in, what? Three weeks? and it'll take at least two weeks for the lenses to get made and another week for him to get used to a new prescription. We need to hurry."

"She can try."

"She's his doctor. He has to do what she says. Hmm — I'm trying to think what else we can do. One, clothes and shoes. Two, glasses. Three, posture lessons!"

"Four, speaking more—" Carolyn groped to define it "—Suavely? With confidence?"

"Yeah, but being himself," Candy answered. "Not imitating Captain Dad. He needs to — now do I say this? Recognize his own strengths and not mimic someone else. Not Captain Dad, not his cousin, either. Can we teach him that?"

"I think we'll have to hope for the best. Leave it to God. Some things you just can't teach."

"If anyone can, Captain Dad can," Candy grinned. "I'll buzz you in to see the Boss. Adam's got a whole new envelope of pictures of Abby from Fox Photo to show off, by the way."

"I saw them last week, but I'm always glad to see sweet pictures again."

"No, this is a new batch. Abigail is going to grow up thinking her daddy has a camera growing out of his face."

"Or a head that has a flashbulb?"

"So sue me; I'm a proud papa and good lawyer. I'd win," the man in question said from the door. "Now, what's going on? I heard the names Claymore and Captain bandied about. I hope no charges are being filed?"

"Not today, and if this works, probably never," Carolyn replied breezily.

"You HAVE to be joking."

"I kid you not, Adam."

"Do tell."

XXX

When she finished, Adam just shook his head. "Other than a private legal contract, how can I help?

"You are a good example of a — a non-super-powered cool guy," Carolyn suggested.

"Yeah, boss," Candy grinned. "You ought to be able to coach Claymore in something — how to play poker, maybe? Or tie a decent necktie, or almost anything, really. Mom says this is a crash course."

"Not crash and burn, I trust."

"Hope not. Bree could use the free rent."

"What does Blackie think about all this? You know, he could say, and I would half agree, that it is our Christian duty to help the poor guy. Personally, I want to meet this cousin that has lit a fire under Claymore. Why do these things keep happening to us around special events?"

"Article nine, sub-section-eight of Murphy's Law," Candy quipped.

"Don't be a smart aleck, kid. That should've been my line. It's true. Think about it. Bron shows up just as Claymore gets sick, and needs rescuing. Jess has Abby in the middle of _Jedi._ Zach Leland shows up when Bron is directing her first musical and Devon Miles unknowingly raises a ruckus during St. Pat's Day and let's not forget that's when Molly and Sean were reunited, too."

"Or my brother's help at making Thanksgiving 'special' a couple of years ago," Candy muttered darkly. "For that matter, Amberly was born on _Labor Day _weekend."

"I'm sure Jenny has heard every joke on the planet about that."

"Tris may have invented a few new ones, too," Mrs. Captain added. "But we are getting off-track here. Adam, can you spare Candy long enough for her to draw up a private legal contract for Claymore; and I guess have Daniel and Dash to sign?"

"Sure, but where does that leave me?"

"If you have a lot of work she needs to do, never mind."

"No-no-no-I just have to be a part of this — great improvement plan somehow."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"Beats me. Learning to keep a straight face is an art form. So is playing poker. Claymore has proved he can hold Abby without causing damage and Amberly seems to like him. Guess I could help outfit him? Jess says I dress well, except when I am home, on my days off. I like turtlenecks, off-white turtlenecks — no other colors and she just can't understand that."

"I don't think I've ever seen Claymore go casual," Carolyn frowned.

"It'd be good for him. Loosen him up, but there's a difference between casual and sloppy Goodwill." Adam's brow knit. "Of course, Dash is on the best dressed ghost list, if such a thing exists."

"I was thinking he would be good for that," Carolyn laughed. "He even convinced Daniel one needn't stay in slacks, turtleneck and seaman's jacket ALL the time. I 

like the idea of you teaching him how to stay cool, if possible. He's going to need it."

"I'm at your service," he said, bowing. "Though personally, I think Daniel might need a little help on that subject, also," he paused, and both women gave him a curious look. "Well, face it, my dears, our dear Captain has improved mightily in the last decade and some years, but you know, Claymore gets on his last nerve. I am a little concerned about him keeping his temper."

"Me, too," Carolyn admitted.

"Carolyn, in all honesty, the lawyer in me compels me to say that if I were Claymore I would want a condition in there about Daniel keeping his cool — within reason."

"This is true, but also; Claymore not being allowed to over-react."

"Also quite true. Yet they are actually starting training this afternoon? In that case, I think it is VITAL that Candy, Thom, Jess, my lovely daughter and I come to your house tonight and draw up some papers before anyone gets in too deep. Candy? I hope you don't mind. I am there as counsel — you are doing the actual papers, as your mother requested. That okay?"

"Sure. I don't think Thom's got any plans."

"Good. I rather hope Jess doesn't have any either, but honestly, I think it best we set up conditions immediately, for everyone's sake, including your mom's!"

"And, we should find out if Bree even wants this — prize," Candy added.

"Yes. Though I would encourage her to accept it. It was very thoughtful of Daniel to suggest, after all, and she can always put the money in the bank toward future rents, or purchase even."

"It was actually, Dash's suggestion, but Daniel ran with it," Carolyn said. "I'd love for her to buy it, to put her roots here, but that's her choice."

Adam frowned. "The winds seem to indicate that a certain young gentleman who is all but my dear secretary's, excuse me, assistant's, brother-in-law might be interested in sharing residence with her, but given his housing situation, would her owning a home be wise?"

"If you mean Blackie, he IS my cousin-in-law," Candy pointed out. "And, they can't move in together! Aunt Lynne and Uncle Dash would have cows, not to mention the Elders and the Presbytery."

"Or, your Aunt Jess," Adam reminded her, "Whom I happen to live with. I meant after a proper ceremony takes place and they are duly wed. That's just a gut instinct, and by the virtual brother-in-law; well, one must admit, he and Thom seem more like brothers than cousins."

"Since Jenny and I are more like sisters than cousins, it's a good tradition," Candy countered.

"Not all cousins are like Harriet and Hazel," Carolyn agreed ruefully.

"Praises for that fact are duly offered every time such a thought comes to mind; no offense to your absent relatives," Adam jested.

"None taken," Carolyn assured him. After kissing her daughter, she indicated the bag. "I'll just leave lunch with you and head home. Just to make sure Claymore doesn't become a ghost."

XXX

Even as Carolyn's mission of mercy was taking place, shortly before one, Claymore knocked urgently on the door of Gull Cottage. Daniel opened it and was about to congratulate his punctuality, when his nervous student began to babble.

"The wind at sea is from the lurid side; the — the RIGHT is stah-bard and to the LEFT is port. Aft is the front and the stern is the — the other one. Back, it's the back! Er — there's sails and portholes, and — and — the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain."

"Fascinating, but its leeward, not lurid, not most of the time anyway," Daniel corrected him. "And, how does that pertain to learning to be a proper Gregg?"

"It's what you taught me before! I remembered!"

"Excellent, but it won't impress your relative, unless you purport to own a yacht."

"I hadn't thought of that. I wonder how much a rental would be?"

"You would have to—" The Captain shuddered, "—be Blair Thompson, or possibly a Shoemaker member to afford it."

"I've got money! I hate to let it go, but it'd be for a NOBLE cause."

"Claymore; let me break it to you now. I may have played Henry Higgins, but I am NOT he. I won't finance you as Higgins and Pickering did Liza. You are going to be laying out some cash of your own if you truly wish to improve yourself."

"In addition to losing six months' worth of fees," was the dour reply.

"We can still forget the whole thing, Claymore. After all, you are — you. It is possible that this crash self-improvement course is impossible to carry out."

"You don't think you can teach me?"

"No, I just don't know if you can absorb all there is to know in time."

Indignantly, Claymore drew himself up and glared, "Anything you can teach, I can learn."

Daniel lifted an eyebrow. "Claymore, watch your tone." He started toward the living room, Claymore trailing behind him.

Realizing he might have exaggerated, Claymore paled. "I don't know what got into me."

"I don't either, but I think you should redirect it toward your cousin, if needed. Perhaps with him you could be more forceful? More together, at least, it sounds like."

"Only if I stay mad," Claymore slumped down on the living room couch. "And that — makes me faint. You remember that from when you gave away my office furniture and I yelled at you."

Daniel gave his nephew a thoughtful look. "I was most impressed with your forcefulness back then, but I also understand what you are saying, oddly enough. It's hard to sustain being angry for indefinite periods, and even when you can, it is damaging to the soul."

"Is — is that how you became a good ghost?" Claymore asked bravely, "You were so mad about dying and being considered a suicide — and — and not leaving a will that you just — stayed mad for a hundred years?" He lifted a hand to his face. "Now, don't hit me!"

"Stop saying that! Perhaps, but had I not found love, it would not have lasted."

"Oh. Well, I am glad you did. It has mellowed you." Claymore smiled. "And I am glad I had a bit to do with you and Mrs. — uhm — Aunt Carolyn getting together. I'm proud of it."

"You should be. Quite frankly, I never thought you would have the courage to rent the place to her to begin with, after I had scared off the five tenants you had tried leasing to before."

"Desperation makes a man do odd things. Hence the reason I am here. Now what am I going to learn today, since you aren't trying to teach me to be you, just a better me?"

"We work on your greeting skills; and I have NOT mellowed, I have merely tempered aspects that might be considered — negative."

"Your soul mate has been your best influence," Claymore dared to grin. "You ARE mellower — but not a poodle!" He added hastily. "What do you mean; my greeting skills?"

"Making the proper first impression."

"My cousin knows me. How can I impress him now?"

"It has been some time since you saw him; it will be like seeing him for the first time. Besides, you will meet new people someday, and it is good to know."

Claymore nodded vigorously. "Okay — I understand. I guess one can't rely on one's business savvy for everything."

"Modesty is good, too, Claymore."

"But you are going to teach me how to assert myself, too, right? I mean with my cousin, and — other people. Not—"

"Not what?"

"With you — and your crew."

"With anyone you need to."

"Oh. So how does this work? I know you can't possess me, like you have in the past. Are you going to hypnotize me into being — more together around my cousin?"

Daniel shook his head. "No, Claymore. For one thing I don't know how to do that. For another, it wouldn't solve anything. Heavens, you sound more skittish of him, than even me! What was his name again?"

"Reginald Nyland the IV."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Sounds blasted pretentious. Reginald, I presume. English name. Were his grandparents English?"

"Maybe. I'm not really sure. Classy name though. Guess that's why my parents named me Claymore. They wanted something cool and unusual, too. I would have settled for James, my middle name, being my first name." He rubbed his chin. "Loved it when Dash shortened my name to Clay, even if he — and the rest of your crew are the only ones to call me that. You know right after that, I tried to get Norrie and Deke to call me Clay, but I just got sniggered at."

"You should have just ignored them until you were called by the name you wanted to be called."

"Easy for you to say. Daniel is a normal name."

"True, but Aunt Batty was not the first to trifle with it by referring to me as "Dan," a name I deplore."

"Dash and Sean call you Danny—" Claymore ventured timidly.

"You will note that only they and Molly are afforded that right. As I recall, you attempted it—"

"—Once!" Claymore squeaked.

"And only once. I must congratulate you for learning quickly that it is not an acceptable moniker."

Behind his thick glasses, Claymore blinked myopically. "Did you just compliment me?"

"Perhaps, slightly," the ghost allowed.

"It did sound like that to me as well," Dash commented as he appeared. "Did it not to you as well, Sean, old son?"

"That it did," the Irishman nodded, appearing beside his old friends.

"It will not become a habit," the Captain frowned. "You will have to earn all future ones."

"Speaking of compliments, my darling wife has finally had a leisure moment or two to peruse the book chapters you and Carolyn sent us to test read," Dash cut in before any squabbles could begin. "She, actually both of us, enjoyed them enough that we agreed you need to consider making this a TV series."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and if you did, surely it would become a movie, at some point. Lynne thinks that the woman who was in that Kramer movie would be excellent at playing her."

"I've got dibs on Gregory Peck," Claymore reminded them.

"Claymore," Sean smiled. "Gregory Peck is 67. You are 55 now and were more like 47 in 1968, when Danny and Carrie's story starts."

"Oh. Well let me think, then."

"Who would be you, Dash?" Sean asked, clearly amused.

"I was considering that fellow who was Han Solo. True, I am not exactly a scoundrel, but I think he could pull it off."

Daniel tugged his ear. "And who, pray, do you suggest could portray me? Or for that matter, my dear wife?"

"You would have to become actors," Dash suggested. "No one seems right, except you, yourselves."

Claymore tapped his foot impatiently. "You guys are getting derailed, and cutting in on my training time, here. I haven't got all day, you know!"

"Sorry," Dash apologized. "That was on my mind."

"Apology accepted."

Sean O'Casey grinned. "Daniel is already working with you on how to be more assertive, I see."

"Well, it's not my first set of lessons and time is money, even when none is exchanged, in a manner of speaking."

"I thought today started your training, Clay?" Dash scratched his beard. "That's why I, for one, popped in. I thought I could help Danny, a bit."

"I figured my sessions learning to be him were lessons."

"Those were ages ago. They might serve as a hint of what you will be learning, but nowhere near all! Now, I suggest we start with dressing you decently—"

"I disagree," Sean shook his head. "Deportment should come first."

"Clothes might make the man though, help him get — into character," the Englishman countered. "Remember, in _My Fair Lady,_ the first thing they did is get rid of all of Eliza's old clothes, and give the girl a bath."

"YOU ARE NOT GIVING ME A BATH!" Claymore shouted. "Uncle! That cold shower you gave me that one time was quite enough! And, I do bathe! Eliza didn't."

"Come down, Claymore," Daniel grinned. "Higgins had servants to take Eliza in hand. I do not. Furthermore, I have nothing to dress you in, as I manifest most of the things I wear on to my body, as Sean and Dash do. Besides, I believe the ladies have expressed an interest in taking you shopping for an updated wardrobe."

"From Goodwill, right?" Clothes were expensive, after all.

"Yes. Possibly Woolworths, also. Not so much to save money, but so the clothes will appear lived in, rather than something bought for the visit. But right now, I think we should concentrate on how to make YOU better, not your wardrobe."

"I'm for that."

"Wonderful. Now stand up. First thing to work on is your abysmal posture."

"What? What's wrong with it?"

"You don't stand straight; you slump. You need to work on carrying yourself proudly. And you walk with your feet pointed out."

"Rather like a duck," Sean said, helpfully.

"Yes, did you know; if you would stand straight and carried yourself proudly, you would be within an inch of Daniel's height?" Dash added.

"Uh — no?"

"Absolutely true," Dash nodded. "Here, let me show you. Daniel, stand here—" he pointed. "—and Clay, you here." He faced the two men back to back. "Daniel, your posture is fine — don't exaggerate — Claymore, stand straight. Shoulders back, but relaxed; not up around your ears. No, don't crane your neck; you'll look like a goose ready for the slaughter." When the ghost was satisfied with the way Claymore was standing, he placed his finger where the top of Claymore's head hit the Captain's. "All right, Claymore. Stay standing the way you are, but turn around." Carefully, the landlord did so. "Now see? Stand straight and tall and you are almost Danny's height."

_"Almost_—_" _Daniel said quietly.

"Wow," Claymore breathed. "I had no idea."

"So work on maintaining that," Dash nodded briskly.

Claymore nodded, excitedly, and stood a hair straighter, still. "This is fantastic! You guys just saved me money!"

"How?" Sean asked, bewildered.

"Well, you see, my cousin has always been a couple of inches taller than me — and it's bugged me. I was thinking earlier about maybe looking for lifts for my shoes, like elevator shoes, but not as obvious. Now, if I can remember to stand straight, I won't need them, thereby save money." He let out a sigh of relief and headed toward the couch to sit down; his posture regressing to where it had been when he walked in the door. "What's next, guys?"

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Sit up straight; do not slouch."

Claymore looked truly puzzled. "But I am only sitting, and it is a couch. Couches make you slouch. Hey, I made a rhyme!"

"They do not make ME slouch, but if they do that to you, sit in a chair," Daniel gestured at the other seats. "And don't compose any more poems!"

Claymore tried to sit straighter, but finally, failing utterly, he struggled to his feet and moved to one of the not quite so deep chairs that faced the couch where he sat, if not ramrod straight, at least without a slouch.

"You look better already," Daniel noted, and a large book appeared in his hands.

"What's that for?" Claymore asked suspiciously. "I don't have to memorize that whole thing, do I?"

"Of course not, you simpleton; It's to balance on your head."

"Yeah, right."

"Claymore, I am serious."

"That's for — girls though!"

"It's for anyone who needs to improve their posture. And it is much more humane than how we learned to stand, sit and drill correctly in the Navy, right Sean?"

"Aye," Sean nodded.

"How?" Clay asked, turning even paler.

"Hours and hours of drilling and severe punishment from your superiors if they didn't think you were conducting yourself properly. Extra watches at full attention, forty-eight hours without sleep, for openers."

"Doesn't that violate the Geneva Convention or something?" the poor fellow gulped.

"We didn't have that then," Sean barely kept from rolling his eyes.

"And, that applies only to prisoners of war, though some of the newer recruits might have argued that that was exactly what they were," Daniel added. "Not in the Navy, but on ships that had men impressed into service, it would be a fair point."

"But, Claymore, you were in the army; did you not have to learn posture there?" Dash asked, baffled.

"Well, I was, but it was just as a clerk. I never had to stand for inspection or anything." Claymore had the grace to turn a shade of red. "You know, having a father with money, and who a general owed money to, had a few advantages. I never had to leave the States during the Korean War; I just did paperwork in D. C., the capital, not your kitten." As her name was said, the young cat looked up with a "Who, me? What do you want, silly human?" expression. "I did win a good conduct medal, though."

It took a supreme act of will for Daniel not to pinch the bridge of his nose. If Claymore had served as a true soldier, it might have done a world of good; Then again, perhaps not. In any event, that was all in the past and it was time to move forward.

"As it has been pointed out, we are wasting time. Shall we begin? Claymore; put the book on your head and take a walk around the room."

"Without it falling," Sean added.

"First, you have to promise that your zoo will not get in my way. I can't stand up straight, balance a book, and navigate past animals all at once."

"You do have a point, Claymore, an excellent one. But see? The cats are napping, as cats do, and so is Dakota, so I don't see them interfering. If they do, we will remove them."

"Promise?"

"If it will make you feel better, yes, I promise. Claymore, we want to help you, not hurt you."

"So Bree can have the cottage for free, right?"

"It's an incentive, but no, that isn't all of it."

"What else?"

"I hesitate to mention it," Daniel frowned.

"Aww come on!"

"It's—" Daniel started, and then broke off.

"I think perhaps what Danny is trying to say, Clay, is this time you WANT to change," Dash broke in. "You are a more willing subject."

"In some terms, it's like losing weight, or quitting smoking," Sean put in. "No one can really make a change in you but you."

"Even if it would be better if you have faced up to your own weaknesses, and wanted to be a better person, instead of doing it to impress your cousin," Daniel added.

"That was just the — the catatonia," Claymore insisted.

"Catalyst?" Daniel suggested.

"That, too."

"Hmm, very well, but this is not getting you trained. Stand by the fireplace and put the book on top of your head and walk toward us."

Obediently, Claymore did just that and a moment later the tome had landed with a thud on the floor.

"No, no, no!" Daniel sighed. "Claymore, you have to keep your head up! And your shoulders! Back into position!"

"Huh?"

Daniel shook his head. Sean, show him what we want here."

After Sean demonstrated, Claymore tried again, but the book still thudded. "I don't have powers you know," he muttered.

"Claymore, this has nothing to do with powers, and you know it."

"No, I don't. Show me you can do it. And promise, no tricks." Daniel demonstrated what he wanted, and Claymore shook his head. "I'll never get it. Can we try something else?"

"One has to crawl before they can walk," Daniel answered. "Now at it again, my dear fellow. Now to quote something you said to Norrie Coolidge ages ago, 'you are too tense— you have to relax, your whole body'."

"But if I am relaxed, I slump! You said so!"

"You can relax, and still do this," Charles Dashire put in. "It's like roller skating. Tense up your knees and hips and you will never get it."

"I wasn't good at that, either."

"This is far easier. Just try."

"And RELAX," the other two ghosts said together.

With a sigh, Claymore did as he was told. This time he made it two steps before the book fell, and with a certain amount of dexterity, Claymore caught it before it hit the floor.

"It's hopeless," Claymore whined, even as he started to put the book on his head again.

"It is not either hopeless — you went two steps, and caught the book. You are improving. You have a way to go, though, if you can't master walking and standing, we haven't a prayer of teaching you to waltz."

"W-w-w-waltz?" Claymore gasped, removing the book.

"But of course! You did say Cousin Reginald would be here the weekend of the cotillion, did you not?"

"I — I think so."

"Then you will be coming to the cotillion, and you will waltz. It is what they do at cotillions.

"But I don't have a date!"

"You won't need one. You can go stag; a 'swinging bachelor,' and you will dance with every woman there and charm them all, or my name isn't Daniel Gregg."

"I'd settle if I could dance half the dances and charm half the women. After all, these days, HALF the time your name is Daniel Miles."

"Not to mention all the years you changed names like they were socks," Tristan's voice said moments before he manifested.

Claymore's mouth gaped open. "You want to help me, too?"

"Of course I do! Who was it that introduced you to black cherry yogurt after your heart thing?" Every eye turned to the young man. "I did sort of keep track of the news," he shrugged. "I had to."

"I see—" Daniel nodded, but he shot the younger ghost a look that said "we will be talking about this, later," and then he turned back to his supposed great-nephew. "Claymore, back to work."

"Isn't it time for a break, now?"

"We have only begun!"

"Oh. What are we doing now?"

"Back to the book, Claymore."


	4. THE FEMININE TOUCH

**4 - THE FEMININE TOUCH**

When Carolyn arrived at home, she could see that the five men seemed to be getting along well enough, so she slipped up to the Master Cabin to work on the writing project she and Daniel had going. That evening, after Claymore had departed and the crew had gone home, Carolyn returned to the living room, bearing Madeira and Daniel's pipe.

"I heard enough to realize you were exhibiting extraordinary patience today. Such a feat deserves a reward," she smiled.

"I can think of a better one," the Captain replied pointedly.

"Yes, but that's for later," she smirked. "You have proven you can be patient."

"I may have used up today's allotment."

As he took the glass from her and settled in beside his wife on the love seat, Carolyn asked, "How awful was he?"

"Despite his professed eagerness; and I do believe he is sincerely anxious to become a better man, a manlier one, Claymore was recalcitrant, reluctant, and—"

"—Rebellious?" Mrs. Gregg tried to complete the alliterative phrase.

"No, not quite that, my dear," he chuckled. "However, it will take a great deal of work to get him in shape, and with the deadline we are under, combined with our other responsibilities—" the ghost trailed off, shaking his head. "Still, he does bear the name Gregg and this crew has participated in more than one event that might be termed miraculous, or at least nearly so."

Carolyn giggled. "We haven't finished the chapter about when Ralph and Marjorie visited, and and you had your all-night crash course with him, teaching him to act like you. Maybe as long as you are in a _My Fair Lady_ mode, we should complete that one!"

"What I recall is how fearful I was of losing you all then and Ralph filching my Madeira!"

Carolyn looked at her husband in surprise. "Daniel, I had no intention of leaving Gull Cottage! My problem was how on earth was I going to stand up to Ralph? You know how overbearing he was, and still is, and really, the only thing I could understand is him being worried about Jon not being raised with enough male influence, or too much feminine influence, take your pick. As if that was really a problem! And there was no way I would have asked you to introduce yourself to them then, even though later it did race through my mind that I should have. You very image, tangible or not would have taken him down a peg or two, and Marjorie would have been in total awe of you, I think."

"You did seem conflicted in the fog, though."

"Only with how to stand up to them, darling, not with how I felt. Even then, I—" Breaking off, she lifted her face to his, and gave her ghost a long, slow, very satisfying kiss.

"Are you sure we need to write?" he replied when she needed air.

"It can wait," she smiled. "Tomorrow is good, too."

"Excellent."

XXX

For the next few days, Claymore's lessons proceeded surprisingly, to Carolyn, well. Her former landlord was an eager student, but, Daniel did admit that they had not tried anything overly difficult yet. They simply had worked with him on posture, etiquette, and diction. The subject of dancing had not been approached again, at least not yet.

"Now, Claymore," Daniel said, after working with the other man for two hours. I am going to leave you alone for the rest of the afternoon."

"No more instruction today?" Claymore asked, surprised, "I know I don't know all there is to know, yet."

"Not by a long shot," Daniel almost growled. "However, I am turning you over to my lovely wife and Lynne Dashire."

"Why?" Claymore blinked.

"You should be asking why not?" Daniel grinned. "To be accompanied anywhere by two such lovely women is a privilege."

"Yeah, but what is the occasion? It's too late for lunch."

"You have an appointment, and Carolyn and Linden are going to accompany you."

"Appointment, where?"

"To get your eyes checked. Lynne happened to mention to me that she was going through your files, and discovered that you haven't had it done in ten years, so back to killing two birds with one stone, here. Get your eyes examined and update your glasses at the same time."

"Oh, no."

"Why not?" the Captain scowled. "I realize spectacles are expensive, but, you need them."

"That is just one reason, a GREAT reason, but only one. I hate it when they dilate my eyes, I can't see if the frames look good or not and when he does that test and asks me which is better, this one, or that one, this one, or that one, and on and on, I think I never get it right."

Daniel sighed. "Point one; they are expensive, but not as bad as they used to be. Look at it this way; you haven't bought any in ten years, so you have saved a lot of money. Take the cost of a new pair and divide by ten and you haven't spent much at all. Point two; the dilating — they didn't do that when I was alive, but it is necessary. You don't want to end up with some undetected eye disease, do you? They don't stay that way long, and Candy says they give you a pair of paper sunglasses so your eyes aren't exposed to bright light. Also you won't be driving, Carolyn or Lynne will be. Point three; the flipping of the lenses back and forth; it isn't a right or wrong test. It is what is best for your eyes, and if the optometrist goes too fast with the switching, be assertive, and ask him to slow down. He will understand."

"Why are both Lynne and Carolyn coming?"

"To help you decide what looks best, frame-wise. More than one opinion is good. You can't see your nose in front of your face without your glasses, how can you hope to pick the frames that fit your face best?"

"Still, I'd rather have more lessons."

"Let me mark that down. Claymore Gregg wants more lessons. There will be plenty of time for that, my boy. Ah, here come Carolyn and Lynne now."

"But, what if I hadn't said yes? Wait! I did NOT say yes. I don't get a say so?" he rattled off as fast as Siegfried.

"No, you don't," Lynne said flatly, coming into the room, Carolyn right behind her. "Doctor's orders, Mister Gregg; Your eyes have to be examined."

"I'm getting a headache!" Claymore complained. "Maybe I should just go home and lie down—"

"Undoubtedly you are getting a headache because of eye strain," Carolyn gave the landlord a look. "Let's go, Claymore. "I'm driving. We'll come back for your car later, after the appointment."

"B-b-but—"

"But, nothing," Lynne interrupted him, "Doctor's orders."

"And mine," Carolyn smiled, taking Claymore's arm as Lynne took the other.

"AND mine," Daniel added, in a voice that brooked no dissent.

"Aye-aye," Clay answered. He knew when he was beaten. "Uh — since I'm being coerced, are you paying for them?"

"Of course not," Daniel answered. "But these two dear ladies are giving you their expert opinions. That is more important than money. And, the ride is on our gas money. Relax, you—" The Captain checked his words. "—just stop being so uptight, as Candy and Jon say, and get it out of the way. I think you will be happy you did."

As they propelled him toward the door, Daniel heard Carolyn murmur: "No more Clark Kent frames," and Lynne answer:

"Aviators. Definitely Aviators."

"But, I can't fly a plane!" Claymore wailed.

Lynne just sighed, and the trio was gone. The ghost managed, if only barely, to contain his mirth until they were out of earshot.

"Poor Clay—" Charlie Dashire chuckled, materializing into view. "He didn't have a prayer, did he?"

"When it comes to a — discussion with ME, does he ever?"

"True," Dash snorted in amusement.

XXX

Before the eye exam was over, Carolyn wished she could thunder or at least unobtrusively bang her head on a wall, or better yet, bang Claymore's; and Lynne was on the verge of hari-kari. The lanky man dithered over every shift in the test wheel.

"Is this better, or this? A, or B?" the optometrist patiently asked. "B or C? One or two?"

"Could you back up and try A again? No, I think I meant One, yeah. Uh, no, no. That's not better. I can't see a thing. You know, none of these look good, can we go back four, no five slides ago?"

"Mr. Gregg, you've never been so vocal about which ones were best," the older gentleman running the machine blinked. "At least you weren't ten years ago, when I last tested you."

"I've been taking assertiveness training."

"I see—"

Suddenly, Claymore burst into giggles. "Now, that was a good joke! You "see," eye exam, optometrist. You see! Ha, ha!"

"It wasn't meant to be funny," the doctor looked over at the two women who Claymore had insisted come into the room with him.

"I guess that's the mark of true comedy, if you can be funny without intentionally being so, right, Lynne?" Carolyn remarked dryly.

"Yeah, right," her best friend agreed.

"If you say so," Dr. Love shook his head.

"It was really funny," Claymore assured him. "Trust me; I have a highly developed sense of humor."

"_If Charlie told Claymore that to boost his confidence, I am going to find a way to kill him all over again,"_ Lynne whispered.

"_Ditto, Daniel," _Carolyn whispered back.

XXX

After what seemed like forever, the exam was complete.

"I don't know how you have seen anything," Dr. Love shook his head again. "Your eyes have worsened substantially. You don't need bifocals, yet, but I will make a bet that by next year this time you will." He wrote out something on a three by five prescription blank. "Now, take this out to the other room, give it to the woman there and start looking at frames — that is, unless you were considering contact lenses?"

"Uh, no, thanks," Claymore shuddered. "I don't think I could get used to putting those in my eyes every day, and I'd spend more, besides. Cleaning solution — and I'd still have to get a pair of glasses to see with for when the lenses are soaking, or boiling or whatever, right?"

"It's recommended," Dr. Love nodded. "But fear not, Mr. Gregg. We just got a shipment of new frames in, and I am sure you can find a more fashionable pair than you are wearing now."

"Is that code for—" he gulped, "—Expensive?"

The other man shrugged. "I didn't intend it to be. I happen to think our prices are competitive with other places in Skeldale, Pripet and Keystone, but Mr. Gregg, they WILL cost more than what your frames and lenses did ten years ago."

"Maybe I could keep my frames and just get new lenses?"

"NO!" both women shouted together.

"It isn't a good idea," Doctor Love answered. "For one thing, your frames are plastic, and old and brittle, and anything could happen while trying to fit new lenses to them. That style hasn't been around in years, so we don't have a template here, so even if we wanted to attempt it, which is not possible, we would need the frames; and what would you wear while we were getting your new lenses ready?"

"My last pair? They're only a few years older than these—"

"Absolutely not," Carolyn cut in. "You couldn't be trusted to be safe walking or driving."

"Come on, Clay," Lynne smiled, taking his arm firmly. "We can find you a pair that will be just right."

"Do you have a cut-rate section?" he asked hopefully.

Doctor Love raked a hand through his thinning hair. "The lower priced ones are on the left, on the long wall. The prices go up the further to the right you go — until you reach the women's frame section, of course. And don't forget, tints, or Photo-Gray, along with scratch protection, etcetera, is extra."

"I saw some on a short wall, across from the long wall—" Claymore started, but Carolyn interrupted him.

"Claymore, those are for children."

"A big kid's might fit?"

Lynne shook her head. "Anyone over the age of twelve shops in the adult section, pretty much. Well, some petite women might. Give it up, Claymore. You can pop for a decent pair of glasses!"

Fortunately, the optometrist did not hear the lanky man mutter, "If I could pop, I wouldn't need the glasses."

"And we are here to see that you find just the right pair to make you a new you," Carolyn added. "Now let's get moving, unless you would rather do this with Daniel and Charlie?"

"Uh — no, but don't say I said that!"

"That's what I thought," Carolyn grinned, "Tally-ho, Claymore."

XXX

Once Claymore had faced the inevitable, picking his new glasses was almost, if not quite fun.

"I love helping other people a lot more than picking out my own glasses," Lynne observed, playing with one of the frames she had looked at for herself. She watched the landlord try on another pair. "Those are too big, Claymore. By the time you get your lenses in those, they'll look like Coke-bottle tops."

"And he'd look like an owl," Carolyn agreed with a nod.

"I don't want to spend good money and look like a jerk," Claymore said firmly. "If I am stuck with this, I want to look good. "Doctor, you said something about Aviator frames? Which ones are those?"

"Over here," Lynne said, moving one row to the right. "And they come in wire, as well as plastic. "You'd look good in wire frames, Claymore."

The tall man nodded. "Lord Dash looks great in his — not that I will EVER look like him!"

"I'm biased, but you're right," Lynne grinned. "One percent of all men, maybe, look that fantastic, so no one expects that!"

"You know, Gregory Peck has worn glasses in a film or two," Carolyn added.

Claymore snapped his fingers. "You're right! Now what did his glasses look like?"

"You need to find your own look, Claymore," Lynne was quick to say.

"With our help," Carolyn added, "Because you can't see the frames on your face without your glasses on."

"That's a Catch-22," the women said together.

"A very unfair one," Claymore scowled.

"That's why we're here," Carolyn smiled, "Now come on, Claymore. As soon as we are finished, Lynne and I have a surprise for you."

"A nice one," the other woman added.

"What is it?"

"You'll find out as soon as you get done."

"Oh, well, let's get a move on, ladies!"

XXX

Miracle of miracles, it only took another twenty minutes to find Claymore a pair of frames that looked stylish, and fit Claymore's wallet — at least sort of. The anxious man was actually disappointed that the glasses wouldn't be ready for at least a week and a half.

"Sooner would be better," he pouted to Henrietta, the woman who was taking the final measurements before placing the order.

"I might be able to speed it up by four days or so," she said, looking tired. "Of course, there would be a charge for that."

"I might be willing to spring for a little—" Claymore dithered.

"Twenty dollars?" Henrietta went on, giving Carolyn and Lynne a fast wink.

"Forget it."

"Then, maybe I can push for ONE day less."

"For free?"

"Yes, as long as you don't call me every day asking when they will be ready."

"Thank you."

Finally done with the eye doctor and selections, the trio started to step out into the bright sunshine, but not before Claymore put the paper sunglasses over his own to cover his still dilated pupils. "These are pretty cool, he remarked, "For paper. But you know, I think me getting Photo-Grays was a good idea, and almost worth the money. Regular glasses and sunglasses for one price, even if it wasn't exactly low."

"Keep thinking how much you haven't spent, skipping exams and glasses all these years," Carolyn remarked. "Mind you, it will be the last time that happens. As my mother always said, you have to take care of yourself because you are the only you there is."

"I don't want to wear bifocals," Claymore sniffed. "They'll make me look old."

"Would you like to try that remark again?" Lynne asked, pointing to the glasses on her face.

"I said me," he gulped. "You wear them well."

"Good answer, Clay."

"So what is my surprise?" Claymore asked eagerly.

"If we told you that, it would cease to be a surprise," Carolyn pointed out.

For a moment, he scowled, then began wheedling, "Oh, come on, just a hint? Would it hurt to give me just one?"

"Yeah, it would. Last time Thom begged me for a hint about what his Christmas present was, he had it figured out in two seconds flat. Oh, he didn't TELL me he'd done so, but I could see that morning when he opened his present that he was NOT surprised AT ALL," the doctor shook her head. "Granted, I later found out he didn't really like it and had used the time to rehearse looking delighted, but I don't give good clues. If Barnaby patterned the killer in his great American mystery novel after me, the most idiotic of sleuths would nail it in five pages."

"I can't top her reasons," Carolyn smiled. "But, if my partner in this wants to keep it secret, then I'm not arguing."

"But, stress is not good for my blood pressure, you said so," he countered smugly.

"There are two types of stress; one negative, the other positive. The latter comprises eager anticipation among other things, and is good for you. No," Lynne repeated.

"Can you at least tell me where this surprise is going to happen?" Claymore begged, "Are you taking me to somewhere in Schooner Bay?" Silence was the reply. "Oh, come on!"

"We could always forget the whole thing, "Bron said, popping into view.

Claymore yipped and then smiled. "I am flattered at having the attention of THREE lovely ladies for the afternoon," he said, and almost laughed.

"Now, THAT was a charming thing to say, Clay!" Bron smiled back at him.

"I've been watching and listening to my uncle and Lord Dashire more," the man grinned back.

"Sounds like a wise course of action," the lady ghost agreed.

"So do YOU know what my surprise is?" Claymore asked

"In a manner of speaking; Lynne and Carolyn asked for my advice yesterday."

"Your advice? Hmm—" Claymore scratched his nose, and glanced toward Carolyn, who was driving, and then Lynne, who was sitting in the front seat, not saying a word. "You are an expert on — well lots of things, but you are really good at slowing Siegfried down, and the theater, of course, but I don't quite see how that involves me."

"What you are doing sounds much like learning a new role in a play," Bronwyn shrugged, "Except one hopes some of the changes are permanent. Rather like Eliza is _My Fair Lady_, don't you think? Higgins coached her so successfully that she became a brand new person."

Claymore went still, blinking as he considered her words. "Say, you're right! It is just another role in — er — on the stage of life! Didn't someone call all of life a stage? And us just players?"

"Shakespeare," Carolyn affirmed. "All the world's a stage, and the men and women merely players. They have their exits and entrances."

"Careful, Mrs. Miles, you might wind up in a show," Bronwyn teased.

Carolyn rolled her eyes. "I haven't trod the boards since _Blithe Spirit_. I leave that to my husband. He has much more stage presence than I."

"You were excellent," Claymore cut in. "But I still want to know where you are taking me."

"In time," Bron smiled. "In the meantime, I was thinking of other ways for you to put your best foot forward to your cousin."

"Me, too," Claymore sighed. "For instance, I drive an old car. I am not sure that will be anything to impress him with!"

"Are you kidding?" Bron looked surprised. "Claymore, you drive a 1934 Ford touring car, and the only thing wrong with it is the way your radiator keeps boiling over. Tris is getting good with automobiles — and not just driving, either; fixing them, too, and he has promised to take a look at yours. Correct the radiator problem, give it a good wax job and clean it out, and you have yourself a classic."

"As in valuable and worth money to collectors?"

"I'm not sure I would go that far. It's not a Mustang, Bentley or Corvette, you know. But any car over twenty-five years old is considered a classic, and if you - spruce it up a little, you can CALL yours that, even if it isn't a well-known one. What was that automobile that came out in 1948? The Tucker Torpedo? I was very impressed by that car, and I don't even drive. It is on its way to becoming a real classic, not because it was popular at the time, but because so few of them were made. Around fifty, I believe. That makes it unusual."

"Like the Edsel or the Steamer," Carolyn suggested.

"Exactly. But better. I liked that design, and it was ahead of its time in several ways, I believe."

"Oh," Claymore answered, disappointed. "But I will remember to thank Tris, next time I see him and make arrangements. Ya know you ladies, and guys are all being very nice to me. I didn't expect it. Not exactly. Of course if I DO impress my cousin, Bree gets free rent. Guess that is important, too."

"An added bonus, but you should know, Daniel does nothing unless he wants to," Carolyn pointed out.

"True, I forgot about that. Say! "We're going to Skeldale?" Claymore asked as Carolyn turned off the main road out of Schooner Bay and onto the highway, "Wow!"

"Since when is Skeldale "Wow" worthy?" Lynne asked. "For that matter, the road does lead other places."

"I — I just meant that this trip isn't a short hop," Claymore stuttered. "It's a real road trip just for me, right?"

"I'd consider a road trip a bit longer than this," Bronwyn noted dryly.

"Speaking of which, do you know if your pals will let Fontenot come back for us to look at soon?" Lynne asked.

"I have no idea," the ghost shook her head. "I rather imagine the ladies are being deliberately denser than they already are in order to keep him around."

"Since he is ALMOST as magnificent as Daniel," Carolyn began.

"And Charlie!" Lynne added, "Just don't tell him I said that; he's got a permanently swollen head as it is!"

"I can't blame them, even though their fellow actors are also quite easy on the eyes, for the most part."

"Oh, all of them are, if you can see with ghost vision, even Simon and Amos," Bronwyn smiled.

"Is that why Sig being — er — oops," Claymore flushed.

"I do realize that Siegfried's public for mortal viewing aspect is somewhat less than the Captain's or Lord Dashire's," Bronwyn smiled. "However, I can see a different man when I use my true sight. However, even his less stunning appearance is still not bad."

"Do you see me with ghost sight, or do I have to be dead?"

"Of course I do," her voice was gentle. "You are more than you believe you are, and I mean that in a positive way."

"I — I am?" Claymore flushed, pushed his glasses up on his nose and sat a little straighter in the car seat.

"Of course you are," Lynne and Carolyn's voices came together.

"Honest?"

"Honest," Bron nodded. "One of these days, Clay, you are going to have to tell me what has made you have such a low opinion of yourself that you can't accept a compliment."

"Easy; insults," was the prompt reply.

Carolyn raised an eyebrow. "I hope you aren't saying JUST Daniel did that."

With a head shake, Claymore answered, "No. I was always last picked for any team, and you know how tough it is for me to get a date, among other things," he sighed. "None of the ladies in Schooner Bay think I look like Gregory Peck at all."

"Was there someone in particular you wanted to ask?" Lynne asked, curious.

"Not really. All "no's" are equal."

"Hmm—" Carolyn answered from the driver's seat. "Daniel teases me for trying to match-make, so I don't do that any more, much, but with the cotillion coming up — this is worrisome. Will it, or will it not be better for Claymore to have a date, my friends?"

"All the women in the know of things have a partner," Bron shrugged. "I'm sorry, Claymore."

"It's okay, I kinda figured THAT out."

"So the trick will be to get your act so together that you can go stag, dance with every woman, there and be — whatever the male equivalent of Belle of the Ball is."

"Every woman?"

"Yes, and it will be that when they get a chance to see what a marvelous dancer you are."

"Are one of the guys gonna — you know, take me over for it?"

"Daniel? Charlie? Rob?" the three women said, simultaneously.

"I think not," Bron added. "You are going to learn to dance."

"I do know how, just don't do it well."

"Good! We are a step further along than I thought!" Bron smiled.

"Huh?"

"I thought I was going to have to start teaching you to dance from scratch. If you know something about dancing already, it won't take as long."

Carolyn barely kept from correcting the other woman. SHE had danced with Claymore and knew how badly he did it.

"I — I confess formal dancing is not my strong-suit," Claymore stammered. "Dancing like Candy and Jon like — at least liked to once, is a little easier. You know; rock and roll. But Mrs. Mu — sorry, Carolyn can tell you."

"You could use some work," she allowed.

"She's being generous," Claymore retorted.

"You will learn," Bron said firmly. "Zach couldn't dance well either, and I taught him."

"Really? And he admitted to not being perfect?" Lynne raised her brow.

"No," Bron said shortly. "Of course, I did teach him a very long time ago." She chuckled. "My feet hurt thinking about that."

"Wow—" Claymore whispered. "And you really want to teach me? After Zach? I will try hard. Really, I will."

"I know you will, or I would not bother. Besides, one quick dematerialization will cure my sore toes, if need be."

"I would have tried to teach you again, if I could do that," Carolyn grinned. "Perhaps I can after Bron gives you a few lessons."

"I'd like to be able to dance one full waltz with you without Captain Gregg — uhm — critiquing me from the sidelines," Claymore nodded.

"He'd do that for any man who tried to dance with Carolyn, I bet," Lynne essayed.

"True, but I feel more like a prepubescent schoolboy when he watches me," Claymore answered.

"I'll get Candy or Jenny to dance with him during your turn," Carolyn said. "So he won't glare at you."

The ladies only smiled. Daniel's eyes were beautiful, unless they were angry or cold and hard, yet even then, Carolyn considered them magnificent.

XXX

After only a few more "are we there yet?'s" from Claymore, they arrived at the outskirts of Skeldale, in the suburb known as River Oaks, where the wealthy tended to hang together.

"I can't afford this part of town, and to be blunt, I don't think any of you can either!" Claymore gulped.

"True," Carolyn agreed. "But, there is a fine resale shop here that has great bargains; Martha found it several years ago. Candy's prom dress came from here and Jenny finds outfits for Amberly that come from Sax Fifth Avenue, but are priced like they came from Monkey Wards."

"Even men's clothes?" Claymore asked tentatively.

"Yes. After hearing about the Vulture incident and having to scramble for clothes for the crew when they were trapped in solid state, I insisted on Charlie getting some clothes that he didn't just dream up or see while window shopping at -

Fairchild's," Lynne informed him. "Now, you know my guy isn't going to wear anything that's not great looking, but we DO have a budget."

"Which has a lot more flex room since you married him," the nervous little man noted.

"Granted, but still, it's there. I'd shopped here before, and gotten Thom some clothes, all of his suits when he was a teen, in fact, and even Charlie liked what was here. My wallet did, too."

"I understand Tris picked up a few things for if that emergency arises," Bronwyn chimed in. "If the ghosts of farmers or actors had any curses like that hanging over them, I'd make Rob come here, too."

"And we are here now because—?" Claymore started.

"Because if you truly want to impress your cousin, you are going to have to have some clothes that don't look like you have been time traveling back to 1960," Carolyn stated bluntly.

"My car is older than my clothes, and you said IT was a classic," Claymore tried.

"Vintage apparel has to be chosen carefully to look right, "Bronwyn replied, "And it works better for women."

"But I'm a guy!" Claymore protested.

"Exactly, so you need an update," Carolyn smirked.

"But — I can't afford a whole new wardrobe, and nothing ever fits me right, anyway—"

"You just need to start with a few things," Carolyn said.

"And if I may repeat myself, we are talking upscale-used here," Lynne said, "for instance, Van Heusen dress-shirts for about three dollars each? You would be a fool not to grab whatever you can find that fits."

"And didn't you say Dash picked up a Beau Brummel suit there for thirty dollars?" Bron asked.

"And shirts from Harrods."

"Abercrombie and Fitch, maybe?" Claymore asked, starting to get interested. "How come you guys never told me about this place before?"

"Claymore, you had to be willing to—"

"—Save money? I'm always willing for that!"

"I was going to say improve yourself and put forth a little effort, even if sometimes part of that effort means spending a little."

"I might spend money, as an investment," Claymore answered. "A good fifty-dollar pair of shoes that lasts is cheaper than buying ten pairs of fifteen dollar ones over the lifetime of the expensive pair, but only if I can pay for a fifty-dollar pair for seven dollars or so."

"So ARE willing to do some serious shopping today? We don't have to coax you, as we did, getting you to get new eyeglasses?" Carolyn made a right turn on to a busy street.

"I'm saying that if I have to spend money, then I prefer to get a lot of wear from what I shell out for. Doesn't make me happy about paying, but I'd rather have to do it less often, which I can do buying quality. And, it just depends on how much green stuff we're talking, here. I mean, come on, generic frames hold the lenses just as well as the pricey ones, and both make me look geeky. So why pad the pockets of designers?"

"You have a point there, Claymore," Lynne grinned. "I don't see any point in buying Sophia Loren designer frames when I can find a pair almost like them for half the price either."

"You ARE improving, Claymore!" Carolyn smiled. "I can remember when you would suffer a headache twice as long just because you didn't want to spend more to get rid of it the fast way."

"Probably had the headache because he didn't want to get new glasses," Bron smiled.

"Well, I NEVER EVER; let me repeat that, NEVER EVER pay FULL price. I wait for a sale or something like this. And, I'm also factoring in that if I bought something that wore out in a few months and I had to keep doing repeat buys, I'd also be paying for the gas to go get the replacements, plus prices could go up, and my time would be taken up, too. Now, at my hourly rate that's—"

"We get the picture," Carolyn cut off the complex equation with one hand, quickly and turned into a large parking lot adjacent to a large one story brick building.

"Since we're burning your time here, maybe we should go in?" Lynne asked. "Besides, even if HE hasn't said it, I know very well that as the wife of someone who was once an English blue blood, when he had blood, I really need to try and have a dress that suits his dignity for the dance. What I have is fine for church and stuff, but heck, what does one wear to a cotillion?"

"Flowing pink ball gowns and ribbons in your hair," Carolyn whispered to herself nostalgically.

"That's really not my look," the doctor commented.

"Although I spent little time at dances because many of our performances conflicted with the timing of them, I have been to enough to be of some use in making a selection," Bronwyn offered.

"Hey, I thought this was a trip about ME!" Claymore protested.

"Surely you can appreciate the value of killing two birds with one stone, Clay?" Carolyn deliberately used the nickname he preferred.

"Well, uh, yeah, I guess I can. It's more efficient and all that, but still!"

"Don't worry, I'm not a shopping addict," Lynne tried to reassure him as they disembarked.

"None of us are, so let's get it over with," Carolyn urged.

END PART FOUR


	5. THE RAIN IN SPAIN

**5 - THE RAIN IN SPAIN**

Approximately two and a half hours later, the four emerged from the store, their arms filled with packages.

"I can't believe what we found!" Claymore bubbled, "suits, shirts, ties—"

"Save the inventory until we get home, Clay," Carolyn smiled. "Daniel, Charlie and the group are going to want to see your purchases, too. No sense going over it all twice. So, would you like to come to supper? Bron, you and Lynne too, as well as Dash and Sig, of course, are invited."

Bron nodded. "I can. Not sure about Sig, but he was asking me about the project today."

"He is good at training," Lynne shrugged.

"Hey!" Claymore protested. "I'm not a puppy. I like 'coaching' better."

"Think of it in the 'Jedi training' sense of the word," Lynne winked.

Remembering Yoda, Claymore sighed, "I'll never be that fit."

"Me either," Lynne shrugged, "But you will be dancing, if not 'the night away,' a good deal, so I hope you are taking care of yourself, and eating right."

Claymore nodded. "Yeah, and you know what? I am actually beginning to like vegetables, after all this time. I wish they made diet hamburger, though, and I still don't know about a lot of dancing. That worries me more than anything the guys throw at me while they are coaching."

"Lean beef qualifies, and so does soy," the doctor insisted. "And most women do not bite."

"Huh?" Claymore blinked. "Who's talking about biting? I'm just talking about making an idiot out of myself."

"What makes you so sure you WILL be?" Carolyn asked. "You certainly pulled off playing Alfred Doolittle in _My Fair Lady_. You had plenty of dancing in your numbers in that, you know."

"Not the same kind," Claymore retorted. "I ever tell you why I know I am a lousy social dancer? I mean—" he blushed, "—Other than stumbling all over your feet the night of the Centennial, or what I am sure Candy and Jon have mentioned, the time they saw me try to dance formally?"

"Yes; but that wasn't dancing, just wiggling."

"What was?"

"The way Candy and Jonathan dance."

"I wasn't too great dancing with a chair, either."

"Why do you think you are a lousy dancer, Claymore?" Bron asked.

"You sure you want to hear? You guys — gals, I mean have been listening to me a lot today."

"Go ahead, we can't help you if we don't have information," Mrs. Gregg said.

"Well," Claymore hesitated, but only for a moment. "It goes back to when I was about, thirteen. I had been living in Schooner Bay for about a year, I guess, and it was after the first time I met the Captain — you know — when the guys bribed me into showing them the haunted house, Gull Cottage — You all know the story—"

"I don't!" Bron interrupted quickly, "What story is this and why didn't I get told about it?"

Briefly, Carolyn related the facts of Daniel and Claymore's first meeting.

"Longer version is funnier," Lynne chuckled. Charlie had told it to her.

"I thought I was telling you guys MY story," Claymore huffed.

"Sorry," Carolyn apologized. "Go ahead and tell it."

"Like I said, I was about thirteen and we had to, and I do mean HAD to attend one of those mixers at school — you know the type I mean, they never change—"

"I know," Carolyn interjected. "Candy and Jon went to their first one Valentine's Day, 1973 and didn't want to go at all."

"Always knew I liked those two," Claymore said. "Anyway, I had been taking lessons from my mother and father on how to dance, and okay, I was no Fred Astaire, but I thought I was doing all right and was anxious for the dance. I had a new — new to me, anyway — suit, and everything."

"Sounds good, so far," Lynne commented.

"Wish it had stayed that way," Claymore sighed. "Anyway, I went, and danced and girls HAD to dance with any boy that asked them, so I danced — and enjoyed myself."

"So where was the problem?" Bron asked, puzzled.

"It's what happened after," Claymore mourned. "I was standing out in front of the school, kinda leaning against the wall — waiting for my father to come and pick me up. We had made plans to go up to Reggie's house that weekend, now that I am remembering. Anyway, I was standing there and this crowd of girls that had also gone to the dance came past me. They didn't see me, but they were laughing about me; how terrible a dancer I was, that my palms were all sweaty when I held their hand, that my trousers were the wrong style and too short—" Claymore broke off.

The ladies all winced.

"Kids can be cruel," Carolyn said sympathetically.

"Anyway I decided right there and then I would NEVER dance in public again, formally, I mean, if I could possibly help it, and probably never would have if the Captain hadn't forced me to at the Centennial Ball. I know I was trying to practice that one time when Candy and Jon caught me dancing, but honestly, I didn't think I could go through with it even then, and was very relieved when they told me "people don't dance like that anymore." And now I have to learn formal dancing all over again!"

"If it is any comfort, I believe ONE of the reasons that men wear white gloves at formal dances is so nobody will know if their hands are sweating or not," Carolyn remarked. "Also, to protect the ladies silk gowns from the sweat from a man's hand. I remember something about Victorian properness, too. Touching a lady with your bare hand was thought of as crude, I think, but I don't know WHY it was. But don't quote me."

"I have to buy gloves, too? I hate wearing them!" he squawked. "Do they even make fancy ones for guys now?"

"Of course," Lynne smiled. "I believe Charlie can probably help you out with the why's and wherefore's, if you ask nicely. And I don't think they are too expensive. But I would worry about that a little later."

"This is turning complicated," he grumbled.

"Life is complicated, and you are catching up," Carolyn laughed.

He had no response.

XXX

As Carolyn's car pulled up to Gull Cottage, Bronwyn noted, "Looks like you have company."

"And, I'd say it's my—" Lynne shuddered overly dramatically, "—Great, great, great — oh let's just call her fantastic, and be done with it, grandchild." She flashed a grin to let them know her grim tone was all in jest. "That's what I get for marrying a man who's a hundred years older, along with a few other benefits, that is."

"Amen," Carolyn smiled.

"But, Bree, and Barnaby are the only people I know whose primary mode of transportation is their feet. And Bree is the only one who rides a bike." The latter rested against the stone fence.

"I'll help her get a great deal on a car, when she's ready, that is," Claymore said. Then, a little defensively he added, "Yeah, I do get a commission on referrals, but if she gets a bargain, my percentage IS less, you know."

"Did we say anything, Claymore?" Carolyn asked.

"You were thinking it."

"I'm telling Charlie to work on your paranoia," Lynne declared as they parked and exited the vehicle.

"Ha. It is not paranoid if it's the truth."

"Peace, you two," Bronwyn chided.

"Let's go in and see what is going on with Bree and show off Claymore's deals," Carolyn suggested.

Dash, Daniel, and Bree rose as they entered. After embracing her 'grandma' and two 'aunts,' Bree stepped back. "So, I hear you're playing Liza, in a sense, Claymore?"

"Well, I don't really need improvement, except in comparison to Reggie, you understand," Claymore flushed.

"Claymore," Daniel admonished, then switched his attention to the ladies. "How did you fare?"

Carolyn sketched out their buys, concluding with, "Lynne even found a great dress for the dance."

"Wish I'd known; I'd have come along," the girl sighed. "Of course, I do not know what color to get." Her face turned fiery. "I need to know what Blackwood — Reverend — oh, forget it — Blackie, is wearing. We seem to always pair up, so it's logical to not clash."

"Ultimately logical," Daniel smiled.

"I got the idea from a novel," Bree defended herself.

"Uhm ?"

_"Rose In Bloom _— or maybe it was_ Eight Cousins. _Louisa May Alcott. Rose refers to a character in a book, a woman, who makes her rival look bad by having her sit with her green dress on a settee with blue upholstery, while she herself looked lovely sitting there in a white frock. I love wearing green, but not if Blackie is planning on wearing a blue suit."

"Some blues would work," Bronwyn mused.

"Maybe, but — I just don't want to take any chances. I don't want to sound like I am on an ego trip, here, but there is a lot riding on this event. I just want everything to go right."

"That is hardly egotism," Daniel assured her.

"I don't want to do anything stupid, either," Claymore said quietly.

"You know, both of you, there is no point in borrowing trouble," Carolyn said.

"Easy for you to say," Claymore sighed. "You're a great dancer."

"Thank you, but that's not the point," Carolyn said. "I'm saying don't set yourself up to fail."

"I'm not, but it doesn't mean I am not allowed to worry. And it's about a lot more than giving Bree free rent for six months. I mean, come on. Sean had free use of my cottage for ages, and if my uncle hadn't been haunting Gull Cottage, I could have asked for more rent — not that I would have, of course," he added hastily. "Uhm — you guys are family."

"Hang on a tick — what's this about six months?" Bree blinked.

"Uh, you know—" Claymore dithered a bit. "The guys coach me on how to be a social success so I can impress my perfect know-it-all cousin that will be in town for the cotillion, and if all goes well, you get a whole six months rent free. It was your grandfather Dash's idea."

"We didn't want to get your hopes up, dear girl, and I do like surprising those I love," the spirit clarified.

"But-but," Bree sputtered and glanced toward Claymore. "I can't possibly accept such an offer!"

"Really?" he blurted hopefully, but then a look came to his eyes, and he rose to his feet, shaking his head. "Maybe you can't, but you might as well, because I DID make a promise — an agreement with your grandfather, and Daniel Gregg, _and __I intend to keep it."_

Much to his surprise, Charles Dashire materialized at his side and grabbed the other man's hands, forcing him into a mock tango position and step. "The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain!" he crowed. "Congratulations, Clay!"

"Wha — what?"

"Charlie, you don't get to tango with anyone but me," Lynne added.

He popped to her side. "Sorry, love, but that wasn't really dancing — nonetheless, it is worthy of a celebration. Our Claymore has stood up for himself and done the right thing, when there was nothing in it for him. Don't you see?"

"Oh, got it, your worshipfulness, but, you still owe me a dance now."

"Gladly my dear," he answered, putting an arm around her. "Clay, with the addition of your new wardrobe, which I understand, YOU put out the money for—"

"Lynne and I did treat him to one suit," Carolyn interjected.

"Right. With that addition, I have no doubt that you are going to be letter-perfect by the night of the ball."

"But can I keep up the act for a whole week when Reggie is here?"

"Of course you can, my boy," Daniel replied. "In two weeks, everything will be so ingrained you will forget you were ever any different."

"Only if you whack me on the head hard enough to give me amnesia," Claymore said dourly. "But, that wasn't a suggestion, you know?"

"We know, Claymore," everyone grinned.

"Great idea for a story," Carolyn added. "Big businessman or lawyer-type gets shot, or injured in some way, and goes through a whole personality change — for the better."

"That is possible, but most head injuries that serious don't have a Disney fairy tale ending," Lynne felt obligated to point out.

"Oh, I don't know, I rather like the idea," Dash interrupted. "I love happy endings."

"I'm not saying impossible, but I can't encourage thumping people in the head to try and make them nice."

"Agreed, but it would still make a good story."

"Uh, excuse me, but I don't want my head thumped." Claymore interjected. "Can I show my coaches what I — we — found today?"

"Wait a minute! I still haven't agreed to this plan!" Bree protested.

"Are you considering joining up with the troupe again and moving on?" Dash asked as lightly as he could, striving to keep the disappointment out of his tone.

"No, Grandfather, but you — Captain Gregg — Mr. Gregg — you are far too generous."

"It's ME being generous," Claymore huffed. "At Lord Dashire's insistence, and I have told you I won't back out on my word — if I am a success, that is, so you might as well stay. Besides," he added thoughtfully, "I'm not sure anyone else wants to rent it anyway, except in the summer. I DO like year-round income — when I have it, that is."

"And it is not a sure thing, though the chances of that do look — decent," the Captain smiled.

"Thanks, sir!" Claymore beamed.

"I — guess," Bree reluctantly agreed.

"So, would you like to see our purchases now?" Bron asked. "I volunteered for wardrobe duty for this adventure, and I would like to know what requires my seamstress talents."

"You sew?" Claymore blurted out.

"Naturally," the lady ghost looked amused. "In the theater you learn how to do a little of everything. I can manage a few hems, and/or alterations, if needed. That was the main reason I came along today, other than I admit, a little curiosity."

"Being able to sew, at least the basics, was an essential skill in our times, Claymore," Daniel instructed. "Ready-made clothes were not easily available. In certain professions, even men learned to do so. Since few women were aboard the ships, seamen had to know as well, in order to to repair sails and to keep our own clothes in order."

"I see," Claymore nodded. "Needlework is handy to know. I can sew a little, because it is cheaper than taking every little rip, tear and missing button to the tailor. I have, in emergencies, but I don't like it."

"I can manage, if I can get the—" Bree paused for effect, and then went on. "Blasted needle, threaded; it makes me go cross-eyed trying to get that tiny thread, especially pale ones, through that eye. I recall seeing a _Bewitched_ episode where Samantha did it by twitching her nose to expand the needle until she could accomplish her goal. Now, that was clever, though if I were her, I'd have just twitched up a new outfit or at least put the thread through it with magic."

"Yeah, you have a point. But, I always agreed with Endora," Claymore nodded. "Darrin was a dolt. If I married a nice witch like Sam, I wouldn't say she couldn't use her powers. Sheesh, he was missing a gold mine. No, he was missing platinum mine, or is there anything more valuable?"

"Yes, the soul, love, friendship—" Daniel enumerated.

"I know, I know, but I mean in concrete terms? Isn't platinum the most valuable thing?"

"Metal-wise, yes, but there are rarer gems, such as Tanzanite, Alexandrite, Tzarvite, and such things can fluctuate," Dash inclined his head. "Let's just focus on the more valuable things now, Clay. You have had a breakthrough; don't spoil it by backtracking into mercenary ways."

"I'm not; I'm just supposing. Besides, it seems all wrong to tell her not to do what came naturally." He glanced around the room. "That's not the same as me trying to improve myself, even if it is to impress Reggie."

"Have you heard from him, Claymore?" Bron asked, "Everything still a go, in that respect?"

"Not that it would change our bargain one iota," Daniel and Dash said together.

"No. He won't call again until he needs a ride from the airport. But, hey, if he cancelled, then that would void my need for this and for the deal, so why wouldn't it change?"

"You made a deal. Whether your cousin shows up or not and whether you are able to impress him or not, our agreement still stands. If you are a success at the cotillion, Bree still gets free rent for six months."

"But," he sputtered. "I wouldn't get anything then, and what do you mean by success if Reggie does not visit?"

Daniel rolled his eyes, "To think that you are supposed to be related to me!! I keep telling you, you are being coached to present a whole new you at the cotillion. I swear you will do that, whether your cousin visits or not!"

"Whether I want to or not?"

"Yes!"

"But—"

"But nothing. Besides, this entire conversation is moot, as of today, your cousin is still coming. Now, no more rabbit trails. About this new wardrobe of yours?"

"It's in the car."

"Good. You may leave them here tonight, and show them to us tomorrow. It is too late to get started on it this evening."

"Oh. I was ready for another lesson tonight after supper."

"You planned to return so soon?" Daniel lifted one brow.

"Actually, I was hoping I didn't have to leave. I like it here."

"What?" Carolyn blinked.

"Why, you—" Captain Gregg started, but Claymore waved his hand in the air.

"Not move in, like Liza Doolittle, just maybe for supper? If Bree, Bron, and everyone is staying? You did say you wanted to see my wardrobe."

"Oh, is everyone staying?" Carolyn asked, bewildered.

"If you'll put up with us," Bron winked. "I don't blame Clay for wanting to show off his clothes. We could order something in. but if you are too tired—"

"Oh, no, I'm just not sure I can manage to cook."

"Nonsense, my darling. Your cooking skills have improved enormously in the last fifteen years," the Captain insisted.

"I'll try."

"I'd vote for takeout," Claymore interjected. "I'll even chip in. I don't want you to go to any trouble."

"If you can face your insecurity, so can I."

"Not enough warning. You've been shopping all day, too. I wouldn't do that to you. So, next question: Chinese, pizza, or chicken?"

"We can get a rotisserie chicken without a trip to Skeldale," Lynne suggested.

"Sounds great," Claymore answered immediately. "I'm a big chicken man — love chicken."

Daniel refrained from comment and Carolyn's smile and surreptitious wink were his rewards.

XXX

Breakthrough or not, Claymore still had a lot of work ahead of him, if he wanted to be ready in time for the cotillion, much less Reggie's arrival.

For that matter, Bree did as well, on the dance, anyway. She wanted everything to be as close to perfect as humanly, or ghostly, possible. As she went over her latest checklist for what seemed to be the fiftieth time, a voice startled her out of her reverie.

"Don't you have a kind word of greeting for your old friends, or have we paled to insignificance in light of your newly discovered family and second career?"

Reflexively, Bree sighed in exasperation and began to speak before she could realize what was coming out of her mouth. "Simon, have I ever neglected you lot? You know, I can't just sense that you are in the room before you let me know it, so pardon me for not having a sixth or seventh sense so as — SIMON!" It hit her suddenly that 'her actors' were in the house with her. "What brings you all here?"

Before her eyes, Simon, Matthew, Amos, Jason, Jim, and Paul faded into flesh and blood forms.

"Must we have a reason to visit our favorite manager?" Matthew asked.

"Of course not, but it's unusual," she defended herself. "Did Fontenot come, too, and the ladies?"

"The girls wanted to go window shopping; they feel out of fashion," Amos huffed.

"If they decide to turn their hair blue, pink, and green, I refuse to work with them again, EVER," Paul scowled.

"I think they just want to look at jumpsuits and polo tees," Jim shrugged. "I can't see any of them going psychodelic."

"That's psychedelic," Simon corrected.

"I know what I said, and that's what I meant," Jim maintained. "You'd have to be out of your tree to wear some of that stuff."

"Would one of you answer me?" Bree cut in.

"Right, we're being rude," Jason nodded. "And, yeah, the great one is here, too, just not HERE. He wanted to go see the infants. He likes babies, he does. Anyhow, we've got a last minute weekend gig over in Holby, that's just a hop away from the place, and thought we'd come and invite you and your new family."

"We even brought you tickets enough to cover everyone — I think," Matthew added.

"Fantastic," the young woman beamed. "Not that it matters, I'd want to see you in any case, but what is the show?"

_"Connecticut Yankee,"_ Jim replied very casually.

"Yeah, he's going to be Boss," Paul looked annoyed.

"I'm the one that sounds American."

"That's because you are. It isn't—"

"—Acting?"

"I didn't say that," Simon huffed.

"You thought it."

"That's no reason to put words in my mouth."

"I knew you were going to say that!"

"WILL you two blasted ghosts stop bickering?!" Bree almost shouted.

"She's right, you know," Jason said calmly. "You two go on with that, Bree and her — uhm — family won't want to come and see the show tonight."

"We wouldn't bicker on stage," Simon sniffed.

"No, but I don't want to listen to it off stage either. Snipe, snipe, snipe."

"Just stop, boys, that's easiest," Amos advised.

Simon and Jim had the grace to look ashamed of themselves. "If we promise to behave, will you promise to come to the show tonight? And bring your crew?" Jim asked.

"I can't speak for them."

"Could you call them, or should we go see them ourselves?"

She held up a hand. "I'd best call."

"Who all do you think will come?" Matthew asked, starting to count on his fingers. "Carolyn, Daniel, Doctor Lynne, Lord Dashire—"

"Quiet, so she can hear," Matthew frowned.

"I just want to know if we brought enough tickets."

"That's what she's finding out," Jason admonished.

"The slow way."

"Shh!" Bree answered, covering the mouthpiece. "All right, Carolyn. I'll see you at Gull Cottage at six. We can group into two or three cars and go from there? No, I can call Blackie—" Her cheeks turned pink.

As she hung up, Bree could not help but see her friends were smirking insufferably.

"So, that's why you hardly call us," Jason grinned, making his prominent ears seem even more so.

"What?" Bree answered, turning still redder.

"We surmise things are going — more than well with Blackwood," Simon dryly drawled.

"I like Blackie, a lot—" Bree answered. "And we have a date for the cotillion. It's only natural that I call and tell him about the play tonight. He has said over and over he doesn't mind giving me rides places, though I suppose I should think about getting an American driver's license, and then a car—"

"Why rush it?" Jim grinned.

"There just hasn't been a good time to go to Keystone for it; Schooner Bay is too small to have the proper office."

"I see," Amos nodded. "Though it is nice that your young man can take you places."

"I — need to call Claymore," Bree stammered again.

"Why?" Paul asked.

"Because he is a member of the family, at least sort of, he's my landlord, and that entitles him to some respect, and he would be very hurt if he wasn't invited, that's why."

"But he's such a—"

"Don't say it, Simon!" Bree warned.

"Well, he is."

"Actually, he is trying very hard not to be," Bree chuckled.

"Pardon?" Matthew asked.

As concisely as possible, she explained the situation, ending with, "I am still not sure I like the idea of the payoff being I get six months of free rent, but I suppose, if it does all work out, I could use the money to get a car."

"By all means, invite Mr. Gregg," Jason interjected. "He's learning a new role — we're actors. Maybe we can help."

"I don't know; ever hear the phrase about too many cooks?" Bree replied dubiously.

"The lady has a point," Paul interrupted. "But I am still curious as to how the man has changed since our last meeting. I don't suppose he is any less 'uptight' as the saying goes?"

"He's improved."

"We'll have to see that to believe it!" Jason and Jim said in unison.

"Can you tell the girls to be nice?" Bree frowned. "They can be rather—"

"Overpowering?" Matthew suggested.

"Or that word that rhymes with witchy?" Jim added.

"A bit of both, by turns," Simon mused.

"But if we tell them he really is by way of being a friend of yours, they will play nice," Jason added. "They might even flirt with him — give him a little confidence."

"Would they do it?" Bree asked skeptically.

"They would consider it an acting challenge," Paul laughed. "Myra and Chloe anyway. Paige doesn't pull her punches for anyone."

"That's a thought," Bree said contemplatively. "Yes, I may have mentioned that Carolyn and Uncle Daniel are turning their first years together into a romance novel, and because of that, we're all getting to read pages of it and it's been a chance for me to catch up on — I suppose history is the right term? There was one incident in which Claymore wanted to find a girlfriend, but had all the confidence of a gnat."

"Have you ever talked to a gnat? How do you know they don't have enormous egos, or as large as can fit in their bodies?" Jim asked.

"Hush," Amos chided, swatting him with his cane, "Go on, Bree."

"Knew being solid had its drawbacks," the gambler/actor scowled.

"His self-confidence level was about the same size as a gnat, then," she sweetly corrected herself. "Carolyn took pity on him and arranged for two of her friends, neither of whom is a professional actress, to buoy his confidence making a fuss over him, but they did it rather too well."

"I must protest, dear girl. If their performances were that adept, then we would not be listening to a current plot on how to build up the man's self-esteem at present," Simon argued.

"My cane works on you, too," Amos growled.

"So, it didn't last," Bree sighed. "Now, shut up all of you and let me tell the story! It's almost done. In any case, if two untrained women can pull off a successful, excuse me, semi-successful performance, then SURELY three women who have practiced their art for centuries can do better."

"They've adjusted their ages. That "centuries" remark might not go over too well," Matthew commented, studying the ceiling. "However, that was not a criticism of Bree, Amos, so put away the dratted cane."

"I will — when I am convinced that you are in control of your tongue," Amos retorted.

"YOU are NOT my Pappy!" Jim shot back, almost too loudly.

"Both of you; hush!" Bree exclaimed. "Are you bickering just to convince me you still need a peacemaker? Or do I need to holler for Fontenot?"

"He is not the boss," Matthew protested.

"He's certainly done well enough, making you behave for the last few months. Now, you interrupted me. I still have a few calls to make, including Claymore Gregg, and—"

"If you are going to call him, I best go round up the women," Paul said, and started to disappear.

"You might do better if you don't speak of them as cattle," Bree answered and started to dial the phone again as Paul re-solidified.

"If he did any better, we'd have enough female-types around to start a harem," Jim opined.

Bree stopped dialing, stifling a grin. "It is a good thing the females in our troupe know you as well as I do then. Now, any two of you, go find the girls and let me finish making these calls."

"Are you endeavoring to be rid of us?" Simon asked.

Bree shook her head. "Not at all, you guys. But tonight is kind of last-minute, and we are running short on time. And even though I am not traveling with you everywhere you go, you are still my guys and I — I just want things to go right, and maybe help Claymore out at the same time. Understand?"

"Yeah, we do," Jason nodded, patting her shoulder. "C'mon, blokes. Let's give her peace."

"I'll see you all at the theater in Holby at seven," Bree called out, as they disappeared, and then she started dialing the phone again.

"We'll save you the best seats," Jim promised with a wink.

"You better," Bree retorted, and dialed the phone again. "Hello? Claymore?"


	6. CLAYMORE'S ASCOT

**6 - CLAYMORE'S ASCOT**

"Why can't I just go as ME?" Claymore fretted as Bronwyn helped adjust his necktie. This time, it was an ordinary one, not a bowtie.

"You are going as yourself," she soothed, "The new, imp— updated one."

"Why can't the old, undated one attend?"

"Becausemygoodfellow…" Siegfried cut in rapidly.

"Rob," Bronwyn admonished gently.

"Because, my good fellow," the ghost very deliberately began again, "You have been working hard, as have your tutors, to make the new you the REAL you. Besides, you can think of this as a trial run, a dress rehearsal, as it were."

"I'm not ready!"

"Wouldn't it be better to test your performance BEFORE that cousin of yours docks?" Siegfried essayed.

"It'd be better if he didn't come at all," Claymore grumbled under his breath, forgetting his two guests had far superior hearing.

"But, he is," Bronwyn shrugged. "So, let us make the best of it, which means you need to appear as the new you somewhere and get used to being him — ah — you."

"I'm not ready for my — my public debut. Couldn't there be something more private? And, I don't know anyone at all in Holby."

"Which is WHY it is ideal!" Siegfried declared, slapping a rickety table one hand. "A suddenly transformed you would attract attention that might make actual performance problematic. This way, you can freely be the new Claymore and no one can compare the versions."

"Well—"

"Exactly, of course I'm right," Siegfried nodded vigorously.

"I wasn't going to say that! I wanted to say, I don't feel up to Ascot," the lanky man protested.

"You will be fine," Bronwyn insisted. "Just don't tell anyone to move their blooming — backside."

"Besides, we aren't going to a race; we are going to see a play; _Connecticut Yankee, _and attend the cast party after," Bron went on.

"A party?" Claymore blanched, "Great! With MORE people I don't know?" He glanced down at his relatively new dark blue suit. "I'm dressed all wrong — maybe my gray suit would be better? Or something more casual — my white turtleneck, and—"

"Not for the theater," Bronwyn sighed.

"What about my shoes? Maybe I should wear my other pair? And are my slacks too long? I knew I should have gotten lifts for my shoes — Do you see any dandruff on my shoulders?"

"You are fine," Bron stated.

"No-no — I'm dressed all wrong. Tell you what, I'll stay home and — and — practice and just skip the play tonight."

"Claymoredearboydostoppanicking,please." Sig cut in.

"Clay — Sit down," Bron asked, pushing him gently into a seat.

"What'd he say?" Claymore blinked.

"He wants you to stop panicking, and so do I," Bron answered, taking the landlord's hand.

"Easy for YOU to say; you're both cool and have powers and stuff."

"Powers do not make you cool," Bron said, giving his hand a tiny squeeze. "Don't you honestly know how much you have improved? And I don't mean just in the last two weeks, but in the last year, since I first met you." She glanced at Sig who had popped over to stand next to her. "Rob, tell him."

"Youhaveimprovedgreatly!" the other man replied quickly.

"Believe it or not, I actually understood that, but you ARE just saying it."

"I never just say something I do not mean, ask my brother!"

"Uh, I'd just as soon not. He'll laugh at me or something. I still need to practice dancing — maybe I should remain here?"

"Out of the question," Bronwyn argued.

"I think I need a drink," Claymore gulped.

"Nonsense!" Came from both ghosts at once.

"Claymore, you won't have to do anything for at least two hours, just come and enjoy the show," Sig went on.

"And you get in for free," Bron added.

"Free is good," he slowly answered.

A horn toot sounded.

"That will be Lynne and Dash, picking us up," Bron said, "Not come on, Clay, buck up. It's going to be a good evening, I promise."

"I want that in writing; a warranty."

"I will, but you won't need it. Now come, Claymore."

"Do I have a choice?"

"I don't believe you do," Bron grinned. "Now, look, you look great. Your new haircut is flattering, your suit is great, and your new spectacles—"

"—Are rubbing a raw spot on my nose."

"We can get that fixed tomorrow," Bron interjected quickly.

"But they flatter your face, enormously," Sig said. "Now, my boy, get your hat and let's get out there before Dash pops in scolding."

When he hesitated, Bronwyn added, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I could make an idiot of myself, or someone could laugh at me. I don't like people laughing at me."

"Claymore, you are family, we aren't going to laugh at you."

"What about other people?"

"They won't. And if they do, you won't know about it. But they won't. You need to have more faith in yourself—"

"—Before your cousin gets here," Sig added.

Claymore shuddered.

Bron looked unhappy. "Clay?"

"Yes?"

"You like to act, right?"

"Y-yes—"

"Then maybe you could think of this whole excursion as playing a part?"

"I've never had the starring role before!"

"You have all of us on stage with you, and supporting you, Claymore."

"ARE you three ready to go?" Dash said, as he materialized in the room.

The other ghosts gave Clay an "I told you so" look.

"All right, all right, all ready!" Claymore stood and gave a last yank at his lapels. "Let's get this over with."

"That's the spi— ah — right attitude!" Siegfried declared heartily.

"This is going to be a very interesting weekend," Dash whispered.

"Unfortunately," Bronwyn agreed.

XXX

Shortly before it was time to leave for Holby, a knock came on Gull Cottage's door. As Carolyn opened it, she was delighted to see, on the other side, her favorite ghostly guru, the man who had made it possible for Daniel to be solid as much as he wanted to be, as long as he didn't push it, or fall under the Sea Vulture's curse: Fontenot, just Fontenot.

"Welcome back!" she beamed.

Leaning down, the regal gentleman kissed her hand. "I'm fifty times as glad to be back as you are to see me, I daresay."

Hearing his friend arrive, Daniel popped over to stand by his wife. "Are you back on this side of the country to stay, for a while at least?"

"If I have a thing to say about it, yes," Fontenot said firmly. "I've taught those actors as much as I can, but they keep asking me to stay on—" He shook his bald head. "If they keep it up, I do have a potent threat to use to discourage them."

"Oh?" Carolyn asked, lifting her brows.

"Indeed," he nodded gravely.

"Do tell; I'm always interested in a good threat," the Captain grinned.

"I thought you might be," the other ghost chuckled. "I will simply inform them that I have four centuries' worth of very long, very boring stories, and I plan on telling them each and every one."

"I doubt they are boring," Carolyn chided.

"Oh, trust me, good lady, some of them most certainly are, even I know that. But, those are not all my tales, I also have four-hundred years' worth of interesting ones, but those are for less irritating students — and wives of students."

"And fellow shipmates of said-students and their wives also?" Sean O'Casey asked, materializing, with Molly on the porch next to the old ghost.

"Naturally," Fontenot grinned.

"Good. I'd hate to be left out of things," Molly smiled, as Fontenot kissed her hand.

"Come inside for a few minutes," Daniel urged. "Jon will be ready momentarily, and we can leave in ten minutes or so and still have plenty of time."

"Capital, Daniel," Fontenot rumbled. "Just as well, too, from what I have picked up. Tell me, are you really playing Henry Higgins again?" he asked, as the four took seats in the living room.

Grimacing, he nodded. And Fontenot gave him one of his patented looks. "Things are not going well?"

"He is not an easy pupil."

"Teaching adults can be more difficult, especially MORTAL adults with any number of bad habits to overcome. But fear not. I have no doubt that Claymore Gregg will pull it off in the end, and if he does, who knows? I may start referring some of my pupils to you!"

"Not for a while, please, sir. Carolyn and I are working on a new book."

"I heard something about it. What is it again, exactly?"

"Turning our story into fiction," Carolyn smiled, "The first two years or so, anyway."

"Sounds marvelous. I trust I will receive one?"

"Naturally."

"Sean has saved you a copy of his book, also," Molly said proudly.

"Capital. Well, I will not get bored while I take a 'vacation," he rumbled.

"Vacation?" Sean looked puzzled.

"Schooling NINE temperamental, set in their ways ghosts for over six months has me ready to take a break from teaching, for at least a few weeks."

"Ah, I see," the Irishman grinned, "So much for the glamour of the stage. I believe I will stick to writing."

"You mean, we can't mark you down for teaching at least one class at our community theater, darlin'? Molly asked.

"And what should I teach?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "How about singing? Or writing? Or seamanship?"

"Do you really think enough people would be willin'?" Sean asked. "I believe I could make the time, but we do have to get started on our record, if only to make Devon Miles happy."

"Not to mention, the rest of us!" Carolyn stated firmly, leveling a significant glance at her husband. "I want YOU to record, too. And, Tristan needs to join in."

Fontenot looked amused. "I do believe you all are my most successful students ever. You have certainly established very full lives." Stroking his neat beard, he added, "Speaking of which, on my way here I did call on Elroy, while his human was away at her part time job. He's doing well; I must be sure and report that to Jessamyn, but, he wishes that he had more of an opportunity to cook. Being a ghostly spirit is rather limiting to what one can do, after all." Suddenly, he looked abashed as realization hit. "You all were headed out, and here I am, nattering."

"Just to see your last class in performance. Unless you're utterly sick of them, come along," Daniel invited.

"Well, I am somewhat, however, for the company of my favorite crew, I will put up with them once more."

"I think there is room in the car, for five ghosts and one mortal, unless you would rather meet us at the theater?" Carolyn asked.

"I would rather ride with you, I believe. We'll have more of a chance to talk, and I really don't get to ride in automobiles that often."

"Wonderful," Carolyn answered, as Daniel helped her on with her coat, "Now tell us more about Elroy; Sally doesn't know he is haunting her yet? I was rather hoping he had made the leap and introduced himself."

The teacher shrugged. "I've told you all I know; but I also know if I push Elroy, he's likely to become shyer. Things will work out."

"They usually do," Carolyn answered, glancing up at her handsome husband, and then over at two of her dearest friends.

Daniel shook his head. "Still playing match-maker, my love?"

"No — I just want everyone to be as happy as I am."

"I can understand that," he beamed.

"As can I, but it would not do to be late," Sean pointed out, taking Molly's hand.

"Not at all," Carolyn smiled, "Ready, crew?"

They replied affirmatively.

"Good; because Daniel is your chauffeur tonight."

"He is?" slipped out of Fontenot, who was startled, to say the least.

"Yes," Daniel nodded, "Tris has been working with me for quite some time now, and during a break from Claymore this week, Carolyn took me up to Keystone to take my behind the wheel test, saying 'If Claymore can learn something new, after all this time, you can certainly pass your driving test'." He shrugged. "So I did."

"Congratulations!" Sean beamed.

"Thank you, old friend," the ghost smiled back. "Should have done it long before now, but I confess, the whole idea WAS slightly intimidating."

"You must remember to tell Claymore," Molly added. "Show him that other people are always in the learning process also."

"Not to mention give him the chance to make a commission. He WILL try to make you deal on a car," Sean grinned.

"I doubt if I will need one, Sean. Considering how little I REALLY use one, it seems a waste. Now, can we continue this—?"

"—In the car?" Carolyn added, "Cast off, crew!"

They all moved to obey.

XXX

Daniel and his carload arrived at the theater at twenty minutes before the seven p.m. curtain and took their reserved seats next to the rest of the family, who were already there. However, five chairs remained empty. Dash, Lynne, Bron, Sig and Claymore were still missing. "What do you suppose could be keeping them?" Daniel fumed in a whisper to Carolyn, who was seated next to him.

"I could go look for them?" Tristan offered in a whisper. "I don't sense anything wrong with my brother, though when I think in his direction, I do get the distinct impression his patience is about shot."

"Let's give it a few more minutes," Carolyn whispered back. "They were driving, and Lynne has been known to get lost once in a while."

"Dash wouldn't get lost," the Captain pointed out, trying to stay calm.

"Sig either," Tris agreed.

"Maybe Claymore has cold feet," Carolyn argued. "He probably took a little coaxing. Tonight is his Ascot, so to speak. Give him a little time."

"How perfect does he have to be to sit in the dark for two-and-a-half hours?" Daniel rumbled, but Carolyn merely squeezed his hand.

"There IS intermission, and the cast party after, you know. And, for shyer types, social — stuff — is like a physical effort."

"Harumph. I suppose so."

Ten tense minutes later, as the lights flickered and started to dim, Tris tapped on Daniel's shoulder. "Hey, here they come."

"About time," Daniel grumped, as Dash sat down on the seat next to him, followed by Lynne, Sig, Bron, and Claymore, taking the aisle seat furthest away from his 'uncle.'

"Where the devil have you been?" Daniel whispered to his friend. "I was starting to get concerned!"

"We've been in the parking lot," Dash whispered back. "It took us fifteen minutes to convince Clay that he looked all right! Do you know he actually brought a lint roller with him? He insisted on going over his entire suit with it. He said he didn't want any stray dust particles or hairs mussing it and giving someone a bad impression."

"You have got to be jesting with me."

"On my honor, I am not."

"Shh," Lynne and Carolyn said together, as the lights went down and the curtain went up.

XXX

At intermission, the family got up to stretch their legs and get tiny cups of coffee or sparkling water. Jenny, Dave, Jess, and Adam also wanted to call Helen Wight and make doubly certain their babies were doing okay. They were mostly sure that they were, and Adam, being a lawyer did have a beeper on at all times, even during church, so Helen could have called them if there were problems. However, nerves and logic did not always match up. Had the room not been so crowded, one of the ghosts would have offered to pop back invisibly to check, but they could not find a moment where a vanishing person would not be noticed and evoke comment. Thus far, Claymore had not had to speak to anyone outside his own clan, and even to them, only barely, thanks to the late arrival.

"Aren't you going to get up and move around, Claymore?" Lynne asked, as she and Dash rose to their feet to join the rest of the crew.

"Uhm, no thanks," he answered back quickly, "I'm not thirsty, and someone should stay here and — and guard our seats, and coats, and — whatever."

"You don't need to worry, come on," she urged.

"No, you guys go ahead. The show will be starting soon, right? Thanks just the same, though."

"Claymore—" Lynne fixed him with a stare. "You have to mingle. If you can't do it now, you'll never manage at the cotillion."

"Yes, and that would be a shame, since we have finally taught you something about how to make your way around a dance floor," Dash added.

"But no one's dancing now and that's days away."

"Not that long, my boy. Today is Friday, Reggie is due to arrive Wednesday, and the cotillion is next Friday. Only a week; and I didn't say you had to dance, just — MINGLE. How will anyone here know how much you have improved if you just sit there? Now, come." With that, Charles grasped Claymore's arm and hauled him up out of his chair.

"Couldn't I wait to show off until the big day and surprise everyone?"

"Think of this as a mini trial run, Clay. You need the practice. And it's just for ten or fifteen minutes, and then you can sit quietly in your seat until we go to the back stage cast party. Now don't be a shrinking violet. You look fine."

"Not compared to you."

"Clay—" Dash looked tired. "Everyone is unique. An individual. You keep thinking like that and all your hard work will be for naught. Daniel, Bron, me — none of us have been knocking our brains out for the last two weeks trying to teach you to be like us, but only trying to teach you to be the best you, you can be, and you have been doing splendidly. Now come join us for a drink; relax and be yourself, all right?"

"We believe in you, Claymore," Lynne added softly. "Now have faith in yourself."

"You — you really do?" Claymore asked.

"Yes, I do," Lynne nodded.

"And my lady doesn't lie," Dash added.

"Okay," Claymore smiled. "I guess I do need to represent the name, Gregg, don't I?"

"That's the spirit!"

XXX

Charles, Lynne and Claymore caught up with the others in the hall outside the theater.

"I was about to send Tris out to see what was keeping you," Daniel said, sounding mildly annoyed.

"My fault," Claymore answered, managing to keep his voice from squeaking. "I — needed to look for something before we joined you."

"Oh? What?" Tris asked.

"My courage," he smiled. "But Lady Lynne and Dashire, here, helped me find it." He turned to the doctor and Dash. "Would you care for some refreshment? I can get it for you."

"Water's fine," Lynne accepted. "Coffee at these things tends to be—" she trailed off, wrinkling her nose. She decided it was not worth arguing to tell him to cool it with calling her "Lady."

"—Like used dishwater?" Claymore laughed. "Sounds like the way I make it. I never developed the talent for making a good cup of java. That's why I usually opt for instant, or getting it at the diner. Tea is better at home. Water it is. And you, Dash? Carolyn? Ca— Daniel?"

The Captain held up a small plastic cup. "We already got ours, but thank you."

"I believe I will opt for tea," Dash added. "But you can't carry three cups."

"Then I will get yours first, and go back for my own. "Allow me, please," and the reedy man was gone before anyone could object.

_"Please don't let him spill anything,"_ Daniel projected toward his friend. _"Dash, watch him."_

_"Can't go invisible, old son. We have an audience."_

_"True, but be ready with what Claymore would call a 'ghostie' if it is needed."_

_"You, too."_

_"Naturally."_

The two ghosts and Carolyn made small talk for a few minutes, and suddenly Claymore was back among them bearing beverages for Lynne and Dash.

"There. Back again with no mishaps," the landlord said, passing a cup first to the doctor.

"What about you?" Lynne asked.

"I'm not really thirsty yet, and decided I better not press my luck. Terribly sorry to have been so long, but Bree's actresses are also running the beverage bar tonight, and I got to talking with Chloe; I believe is her name, about what other shows they are working on. You know how it is. We theater types need to stay in tune with what everyone else is doing."

"Of course," Martha, who had joined them, agreed. "So, what's next for them?"

_"Don Juan In Hell_, I believe," Claymore answered. "I was told Matthew is going to be playing the Devil."

"Interesting choice," Daniel commented, glancing at his watch.

"It's a good show," Carolyn commented, "Small cast, but very showy parts. It could do well, actually."

"I'll say." Claymore answered. "It's another I was thinking of asking Bron about — it needs the British touch. And no offense, Captain, but the part of the Devil would suit you. You should read it."

"We'll see how the book is doing by then."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of doing it immediately! It would look like we copied the idea from our gh — friends. Next year, perhaps." Just then, the lights flickered. "We are either have a power outage, or it is time for the second half of the show to begin," Claymore observed.

"Let's assume the latter," Adam suggested.

"Or a cranky you-know-what?" Claymore dared to suggest.

There might have been a rumble of thunder.

"I suggest not giving any of them reason to be cranky," Sean said pleasantly. "Just my two-pence, ye understand."

"Mine as well," Tristan added, "And the Captain's, if I read his face right."

"Word of advice, Clay; don't get cocky," Dash put in with a smile. "You're doing great so far, just — don't push it."

"He means don't push me," Daniel warned.

"Right, yes, sir," Claymore gulped and added in a sotto voice, "I learned my lesson when you crashed my ancestor's painting over my head!"

"But, do continue to be assertive, simply choose where and how," he continued as he took his lady's arm.

"Indeed," Fontenot nodded. "Timing is everything."

"You can say that again!" Claymore agreed, and they headed back to their seats.


	7. THE CAST PARTY

**7 – THE CAST PARTY**

The second half of _Connecticut Yankee_ was over too soon, and as the audience filed out the doors, Matthew and Amos joined the Gregg crew, who were lingering, waiting for the crowd to thin out.

"You aren't going?" Matthew inquired. "We were counting on you staying for the cast party — for a while at least."

"Right," Amos nodded. "Jim, Paul, Jason and the rest of the group are anxious to see you, too, but they are busy back stage at the moment."

"Is the party here?" Carolyn asked, looking around.

"In the greenroom below the stage," Matthew nodded. "Nothing big, just drinks, non-alcoholic, for those of you driving, and finger food, and there's a piano down there to noodle around with. Amos has promised he will sing something from _Finian's Rainbow_ tonight, if we ask politely."

Carolyn blinked. "I didn't know you ever were in that show!"

"Oh, yes, dear lady," Amos nodded. "I played the leprechaun, Og, once upon a time."

Fortunately, no one snickered. The aging ghost however, was not easily fooled.

"You don't believe me, do you? It's true. The original Broadway production opened January, 1947 and ran for 725 performances, but I was in the second road tour. Had a blasted difficult act to follow, too — David Wayne won both the Tony Award for Best Featured Actor in a Musical; the first one ever given, and the Theater World Award for his performance."

"I remember I wanted to see the movie when it came out in October 1968, but we had just moved to Schooner Bay, and our theater there didn't get new releases back then," Carolyn said.

"Broadway's was much better," the three ghosts answered immediately.

"Isn't it always?" she smiled.

"I'd have to agree," Claymore spoke up. "The movie was a bit overdone. Hard to believe Francis Ford Coppola directed it, with George Lucas, in an unbilled capacity, as his assistant! I read that in a theater column not long ago. I think they did a better job with _"How to Succeed in Business, Without Really Trying."_

"Ah!" Matthew spoke up, "A theater buff after my own heart!"

"Really, we all are," Molly beamed.

"Aye," Sean agreed, nodding his head, "Though I have learned more in the last thirteen years or so. Now, Molly started appearing on stage before becoming one of Schooner Bay's leading ladies. Actually, it is only because she was traveling with Taliesin that we finally found each other again."

"That's definitely a story for the party tonight," Claymore nodded and then whispered, "As long as there are no mortals not 'in the know,' around!"

Whether it was a ghost's normally extra sensitive hearing or his big ears, Jason heard him, "Then it'll have to wait, cause the whole cast'll be there and not all are — bodily challenged or know about such things."

"Oh, that's all right," Claymore answered easily. "I'm sure between all of you and our crew there are plenty of interesting stories to hear and tell; you-know-what's or not."

_"Hello_—_"_ a soft feminine voice cooed from behind him. "Have we met?"

The male actors all rolled their eyes and Bronwyn looked as if she was counting to ten mentally as she adopted a patient, albeit forced, expression. "Yes, we all have met, Paige."

"Not everyone," Paige pouted, and gazed toward Claymore's direction. "I don't know who YOU are!" When the landlord didn't respond, the ghost tried again. "I'm Paige — and you're—?"

Silence. Two more beats elapsed and Bron spoke up. "Claymore, if you aren't going to introduce yourself, I can."

Sean O'Casey, standing nearest, nudged Claymore's arm. "Clay, the lady would—"

The older man jumped slightly and turned to face the small blonde ghost.

"Oh! You were talking to _me?_ I — I do beg your pardon! Claymore James Gregg, at your service, Ma'am — I mean Miss, to be sure!"

"Paige Marcus," the ghost answered, and extended her hand. More than one ghost held their breath, but let it go as Claymore took the ghost's hand and kissed the back of it elegantly.

"A pleasure, my dear. May I escort you to the green room? Or perhaps you should escort me?"

"Delighted, Clay!" the ghost simpered.

"I'll see you all downstairs," Claymore said, smiling in the direction of the crew. In a moment, he and the ghost were gone.

Daniel Gregg fixed a stare on Matthew, Amos and Jason. "Did you put her up to that?"

"Up to what? Who?" Jason answered.

"Paige up to — to hitting on Claymore!"

"Why would we do that?" Amos asked.

"To get her off our backs?" Jason suggested with a grin. "Great idea, that. Keep it in mind, guys. Chloe and Myra both get that matrimonial gleam in their eyes from time to time. Finding a handy mort — er — fella to sic one on is brilliant."

"You didn't con her into flirting with him?" Bree asked in amazement.

"He's never done anything to us," Matthew shrugged nonchalantly. "I only practice revenge on those to whom I owe it legitimately."

"I ought to say something about that, but I'll pretend to be a New York delegate to the Continental Congress," Blackie mused.

"And abstain," Adam smirked.

"COURTEOUSLY," Jess reminded him.

"I COULD remind you that the crazy cottage was overpriced, since we barely needed it beyond appearance's sake," Amos huffed. "Therefore, it might be worthwhile to pursue revenge, but we are innocent. Well, innocent of this, this time, at any rate."

"Is that a promise?" Carolyn looked troubled. "I don't want Claymore to be hurt."

"You have our word," Matthew promised.

"Very well," she smiled. "Now I suggest we get downstairs. Someone has to keep an eye on our — our —?"

"Cinderfella?" Blackie supplied.

"I'd appreciate the idea, but we need another name," Carolyn grinned.

"Why?" Molly asked.

"I don't know. It just doesn't seem to fit. Cinderella thought she was just going to a ball, not making a lifestyle change. Besides, it is the title of that old Jerry Lewis movie, and I cannot abide Jerry Lewis, except maybe in a few of the movies he did with Dean Martin. Claymore deserves better than to be compared with him."

"But, Cindy did get a lifestyle overhaul, unless her happily ever after involved scrubbing the castle floors," Dave contradicted.

"Maybe so, but right now I prefer the nickname Dash gave him — Clay."

"Whichever, we need to get downstairs," Daniel interjected, "Someone needs to keep an eye on him."

"If not more than one," Dash sighed.

XXX

When the rest of the group got downstairs, they found that Claymore Gregg was holding his own — and more. Paige was still clinging to his arm and he was juggling a small drink and a plate of finger food; talking with both Paige and Myra, who had joined them.

"—Marvelous show tonight," he enthused. "Did I tell you we were thinking about doing _Cyrano _sometime soon? How wonderful it would be if you girls could be in it! Or at least come and see it. Bron is a marvelous director. She's taking care of my theater admirably."

"But don't you act, also?" Paige asked.

"Sometimes, with his doctor's permission," Lynne answered, joining them.

"Oh, do you do dangerous plays? Have you ever had a stunt man?" Myra asked excitedly.

For a moment, Claymore was shocked into speechlessness.

"Oh, no," Dash answered, "Clay, here is the mastermind behind the Schooner Bay Theater; but he — he works so hard, sometimes it isn't good for him, and my dear wife has to remind him to — to take care of himself, that's all."

"I had a heart-incident a few years ago," Claymore smiled tragically.

"Oh, you poor, poor dear!" the duo gushed.

_"I do not believe this_—_" _Sig groaned invisibly to Bron.

_"Well, he is handling himself admirably, you must admit,"_ Bron answered back. _"Isn't that what we have been teaching him to do?"_

"I just can't believe YOU have never acted," Paige went on.

"I have to agree with my fellow thespian," Myra chimed in, glancing at Paige. "You have a certain presence."

"Yes, and I am rather put out that we didn't get to meet you the last time we were in Schooner Bay," the other ghost added.

"Oh, I have acted," Claymore answered, taking a sip of his drink. "Plays — light operetta — as in Gilbert and Sullivan, and a year ago I played Alfred Dolittle in _My Fair Lady_, my dear."

"Not Higgins?" she blinked. "What a shame!"

_"If I may quote, John Adams,"_ Adam whispered to his wife, _"Oh, good GOD!"_

A rumble of thunder was a mild, yet strong "DITTO!"

"Oh, we had the perfect Higgins," Siegfried spoke up. "I can imagine no other man in Schooner Bay performing half as well as the Captain."

"Absolutely," Claymore nodded vigorously, almost too much so, Really, Alfie Dolittle was much more fun to play, and my un — that is, the Ca — I mean Daniel Miles, was perfect for the part."

"Perhaps the two of you will sing for us later?" Myra asked, "I'd love to hear you both."

"Ohhhhh — COULD you?" Page added, "Maybe something from one of the operetta's you were mentioning?"

_"Pirates_ or _Pinafore?_ Myra added, "That would be wonderful!"

"Only if Martha Gr — I mean, Peavey will deign to play," Claymore answered, looking toward the other end of the hall where Martha and Ed were talking to Simon and Jim. "And Amos must sing, of course."

"I'll go ask her," Jon offered.

"Thank you, my boy," Claymore said, as the boy hurried off. "Jon's a good kid," he went on. "I wish he could get more involved in the theater, but with him being at college all year, we would have to start the moment he was out of school, and the boy needs to rest, too."

"She said cool," Jon said, coming back a moment later. "Just let her know when."

"Marvelous!" Paige clapped.

"Grand indeed, but I will not perform before we have seen Amos, Matthew, and everyone else, including Mr. Miles," Claymore bowed slightly. _"Camelot,_ perhaps, Sir? Or something from _Lady?"_

"I don't believe how together Claymore is!" Candy whispered to Thom. "He wasn't even this cool at the end of our Christmas dream so long ago!"

"I guess he just needed the admiration of a woman — or women — and he CAN act pretty well."

"I'm not sure ANYONE is _that_ good an actor!" Candy replied.

"If we are going to have a performance after the performance, I think we ought to get started," Andrew said. "Now, I wish more of our audience could have stayed!"

"No point in giving out freebies," Claymore blurted, from sheer reflex.

"What's this about freebies?" Fontenot asked, coming up behind him.

"N-n-nothing," he gulped. "It's just that it would seem that we have a little ad-lib show in the making! Now, I think our hosts should perform first, that is if they aren't too tired — unless you want to, Sir Fontenot, I mean, Fontenot, sir."

"Fontenot would be a great knight," Jenny whispered. "I can see him, or any of our group, in armor."

"Devon Miles is going to wish he had been here," Carolyn commented.

"Awkward sometimes, having friends on the other side of the United States," Daniel nodded.

"That are alive," Tris added.

"And no videotape," Bron contributed.

Or those D-thingys that Rose—" Claymore began to say, until Jess kicked him.

"Good, honey. You can kick other people," Adam whispered.

"Hey! I haven't done that in ages!"

"I could beg to differ, but as it has lessened in the last few months, thanks to you learning what it feels like with Abby kicking from the inside, in my estimation, I will follow Blackie's line of thought, and be New York."

"Fun-ny! At least it was the first time tonight."

"Yes, I realize my humor was one reason you married me. You do have good taste."

"And you are so modest, too," Jess grinned.

"My only fault."

Heedless of this very minor dispute, Bree asked with a frown, "What things?"

"Never mind," Claymore gulped. "I won't be the one to make the universe go kerflewy."

"Pardon?"

Leaning closer, Blackie hissed, "I might be persuaded to explain later. It's a bigger deal than our collective guys and gals."

Comprehending, Bree rolled her eyes. Ghosts she could believe; time and space travelers just seemed too far-fetched. But, she did enjoy talking to the young pastor, so she'd let him tell the story. She would also try very hard not to be jealous of this Rose person that had provoked a smile from him. _She would try very, very hard. _

"You know, we should all consider maybe buying a VCR to share amongst us. Movie nights might be as much fun as the boys' and girls' poker and girl-talk nights," Tristan suggested.

Jenny's eyes lit up. "We could watch _Star Wars_ and _Star Trek_ a dozen times! They're on tape now."

"It'd be cheaper than getting cable," Dave mused, "in the long run. And, _Star Wars_ has been running on HBO for a year or so now."

"But you've resisted temptation? I'm proud of you," Blackie teased.

"And we could keep it at my—" Claymore paused, "—my dear friend Daniel Miles' house," he went on.

"Good save, Clay," Dash snickered, under his breath.

Out of the blue, Barnaby said, "Tris, would you give me a ride to Keystone, tomorrow? We'd have better results in Philly or Boston, probably, but there should be major stores there, too."

"Sure. I'm always glad to drive, but what do you need? I'd be glad to fetch it."

"I know, but I want to look myself. Might need more than one after I see them in person," the professor nodded.

"More than one what?" Lynne asked her cousin patiently.

"Video cassette thing," Barnaby blinked, clearly expecting it to have been an obvious answer. "Dash's advice has almost doubled the award money I had left after taxes, and the paper has turned a profit, so—" he shrugged. "I thought I'd just go get one or two of those machines. They sound like fun. I suppose there are enough good movies to justify one?"

"Yes, dear fellow, there are," Dash chuckled. "But, you're being far too generous."

With a frown, Barnaby replied, "Someone needs to let Tris drive from time to time. He's really good at it."

Sometimes, Carolyn wondered if Barnaby's befuddled act was just that, an act. But, it was part of his charm, too.

XXX

After everyone had helped themselves to snacks and something to drink, Matthew looked around the room. "So — does anyone want to go first?"

Everyone looked at everyone else for a moment, and then Simon Higston stepped forward. "As usual, it is up to me to get the ball rolling—" and a moment later he had launched into Shakespeare's _Richard III's_ speech. Jim Brett followed with a hilarious rendition of Andy Griffith's early stand-up monologue, _What It Was, Was Football,_ and then Daniel, still in his persona of Daniel Miles, consented to sing _How To Handle a Woman_, from _Camelot_. Amos Dowley took his turn next with _When I'm Not Near the Girl I Love_ from _Finian's Rainb_ow, and after a moment, Martha stepped up and surprised everyone with a rendition of _Most Gentlemen Don't Like Love,_ From _Leave It To Me_.

After a small breather, Matthew Wyler and Jason Norfolk did a scene from _Hamlet_, Paul Duncan and Myra the balcony scene from _Romeo and Juliet, _Dave followed with _Carefully Taught_, from _South Pacific_ and then Sean and Molly had a go with a rendition of _Look to the Rainbow_, also from _Finian._ For the next hour, more impromptu performances continued, but finally Adam looked at his watch. "Forgive me people, but it's getting late, and we should get going. I don't want to keep Helen and Jim up forever, even if they did say to take our time."

Dave and Jenny nodded in assent. "We should have left a half-hour ago, but tonight has been great!"

"But Claymore hasn't had a chance to perform yet," Paige and Myra said, almost in unison.

"I don't have anything prepared; I haven't rehearsed—" the reedy man protested.

"A theater and musical buff like you always has something ready," Dash answered with a wink.

"Right," Jess smiled. "Adam told me how well you sang _Major General_, from _Pinafore_, a while back, Claymore."

"That one would be great, Clay!" Myra interjected.

"Oh, but part of the crew has seen that one!" Claymore smiled modestly. "I don't think — now wait a moment!" Moving forward to where Martha was still seated at the piano, he whispered something in the older woman's ear.

"Of course I know it," she nodded.

"And you don't need the sheet music?" he asked, almost too loudly.

"I didn't need it the last time I played for you, did I? I'll have you know this is one of my favorite operettas. I learned all the music when I was twelve. Now, stop stalling, Clay," Martha grinned, and started the introduction. In two bars, his audience started to smile. There was no help for it, so he began, albeit with trepidation, to sing:

"_**When I was a lad I served a term as office boy to an Attorney's firm. I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor, and I polished up the handle of the big front door. I polished up that handle so carefullee that now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!"**_

The singers of the group were ready with: the refrain:

"_**He polished up that handle so carefullee that now he is the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!"**_

"Wonder if Richard Henry Lee took lessons from Gilbert and Sullivan?" Adam whispered, but before Jess could give him a nudge, Claymore had started the next verse:

"_**As office boy I made such a mark that they gave me the post of a junior clerk. I served the writs with a smile so bland, and I copied all the letters in a big round hand. I copied all the letters in a hand so free, that now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!"**_

_**"He copied all the letters in a hand so free, that now he is the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!"**_ the audience echoed, and Claymore Gregg dived into the third verse.

"_**In serving writs I made such a name that an articled clerk I soon became; I wore clean collars and a brand-new suit for the pass examination at the Institute. And that pass examination did so well for me, that now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!"**_

"_**And that pass examination did so well for he, that now he is the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!"**_ The group answered, and Bron, Sig, Tris, Thom and Candy started a small can-can as Claymore began the next verse:

"_**Of legal knowledge I acquired such a grip that they took me into the partnership. And that junior partner "ship," I ween, was the only ship that I ever had seen. But that kind of ship so suited me, that now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!"**_

Martha continued to play:

"_**I grew so rich that I was sent, by a pocket borough into Parliament. I always voted at my party's call, and I never thought of thinking for myself at all. I thought so little **_—_** they rewarded me **_— _**by making me the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!"**_

"Now THAT sounds just like Claymore," Daniel chuckled. "At least the Claymore I USED to know!" he continued, giving Claymore an approving nod, and Claymore struck a pose.

"_**Now lands men all, whoever you may be, if you want to rise to the top of the tree, if your soul isn't fettered to an office stool, be careful to be guided by this golden rule**_—_**"**_

He paused.

"_**Stick close to your desks **_—_** and never go to sea **_—_** and you all may be rulers of the Queen's Navee!"**_

The landlord's audience finished the song:

"_**Stick close to your desks and never go to sea, and you all may be rulers of the Queen's Navee! **_—_** Stick close to your desks and never go to sea, and you all may be rulers of the Queen's Navee!"**_

On the last note, everyone began to applaud, and taking one more breath, Claymore made a deep bow, gave a little shrug, and then started applauding his 'chorus.'

After cheering his old friend, Ed cleared his throat. "Martha, while you're at the piano, do you remember _Swanee River?"_ At her nod, he replied, "Would you play it?" Moments later, his song from Schooner Bay's first talent show began as Ed Peavey began to dance.

After a couple of other acts, it was over, and with a sigh, Martha closed the piano lid.

Dash leaned into his wife to speak in her ear, "One of these days, my dearest love, you must demonstrate your talent to the public."

"In front of these pros?" she whispered back, "No way. You, yes, anyone else, no."

"My darling wife, you are just as good as—"

"No. Not yet. Maybe some day, but not yet."

"You are their equal, just have a different sound."

"Well I prefer to keep my sound in the shower."

"Then I will continue to listen to you there!

"We should be ready to go in a few minutes," Daniel said, coming up to the pair. Carolyn and Jon are helping clean up. It was a nice party, wasn't it?"

"Aye," Sean nodded. "And after hearing Claymore tonight—" He glanced around to make sure the fellow was not within earshot, but he was a few yards away, chatting with Paige and Myra. "After tonight, I am thinkin' we ought to ask if he wants to join in on the record Devon wants us to make. That is if Irish tunes are his cup of tea."

"And if it is fine with the other Mr. Miles," Molly added softly. "'Tis his idea."

"Aye," Daniel nodded. "Though to be honest, I can't see Devon Miles objecting. He just likes the music."

"Devon?" Claymore asked, coming up. "I'm sorry if I delayed things. I was just talking to Paige and Myra. Nice girls, but I figured it was time to go."

"Why?" Daniel asked, ready for the 'Second Gregory Peck's' answer.

"I wanted to get away before I messed up anything," Claymore shrugged. "Tonight's been great. I don't need to do that Liza imitation; say the equivalent of telling Dover to move his bloomin' — you know."

"Excellent," his 'Higgins' drawled.

"You did wonderfully tonight, Claymore," Lynne patted the older man on the back. "You know along with everything else I didn't have to nag at you not to eat too much?"

"Couldn't," Claymore breathed heavily. "I was too nervous to eat and was STILL scared I would spill something." He paused. "Thanks for telling Paige to take it easy on me."

"Nobody told Paige anything," Bron whispered as she joined them. "That's one thing about Paige. If she doesn't like you, you'll know it."

"Really?

"Yes. Tact is not her suit off the stage."

"Hmm. Think she might want to come to the cotillion with me? I still need a date, you know, unless you think going stag is still a better way to impress Reggie."

"Thought you were going stag, so you could dance with more people," Ed remarked.

"No, I was going stag because I wasn't sure who would want to go with me and because DASH said I could impress Reggie just as much or better that way, not tying myself down. AND I wasn't sure I could ask. I never thought one of our acting team would like me. I was just wondering. A date would be kinda nice. I could still dance with other people. So could Paige. You HAVE a date, Ed. Lucky you, you don't have to worry about all this stuff."

"Yeah, just keepin' her happy 365 days a year," the other man noted wryly.

"I heard that, Ed," Martha said, joining them.

"Did I SAY I had a problem with it, Martha, my dear?" Ed answered, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Shortly after, the Schooner Bay Crew headed for home.


	8. THE EXPEDITION

**8 – THE EXPEDITION**

By nine-thirty the next morning, Tristan found himself playing chauffeur to Barnaby and Bree and well down the road to Keystone, hoping to arrive as the major mall there opened at ten. Bree was not one to wear a ton of cosmetics, but when she did, she wanted them to be good ones that looked classy and did not damage her skin. She figured, like Claymore, that paying a little more and buying less evened it out in the long run. Unfortunately, Schooner Bay did not have much more than a drugstore sort of selection, so she had grabbed the opportunity to restock on this little trip.

"You DO realize, do you not," the youngest ghost warned, "that by the time we return, it will be all around town that I've 'stolen' you from Blackie, out of revenge, and Penelope will be all TOO delighted to offer him a soft shoulder, or something, by way of comfort?"

"Beg pardon?" Bree blinked. "Care to explain, old chap? Is all this some American phrasing that leaves a "poor Brit gel" all at sea?"

"Nope, I'm just saying that we will surely be observed at some point. Now, everyone knows Thom and Blackie are more like brothers than cousins, so if one is hurt, the other would be as well." She nodded. "Right; and they also know that Candy and I were very serious for our ages, or should I say, her age and my perceived one, not that long ago, as a small town measures time. But, it is Thom, not I, to whom she is wed. So, I surely harbor bitter feelings and now, my nefarious plot to avenge myself has been revealed. By stealing you from the man whom is Thom's soul brother and best friend, and you being closely tied to Thom's stepfather might sweeten it, I will have done something — horrible, even dastardly."

"But, you aren't, unless melodramatics count."

"When is gossip concerned with facts?"

"True."

Abruptly, Barnaby pulled out a notepad.

"What did I say that was fascinating?" Tristan asked blankly.

"Oh, rumors and misperceptions can make great red herrings. I am still determined to write my mystery novel," the professor explained. "It would all be misperception, right? I'm afraid I'd have to object if you were doing what you said the tongue-wagers would claim you were doing."

"On my honor, sir, I have no plots or desire to avenge myself in any respect, unless I could find a few pigs for Siegfried to have to tend to, or even chickens."

"There are Amish not that far away, as a ghost flies."

"True, but the thing is I suspect he might enjoy that, so it would be a risky proposition, satisfaction-wise."

"Since we've determined Tris is not after me and we've reached the mall, let's go on in? The Borghese counter is having a nice giveaway, I understand, and it's been ages since I had a blue soak from them, so I don't want to miss it," Bree prodded.

"We're already here? That did not take long at all," Barnaby sounded amazed.

"Not as fast as popping, but more fun," Tris grinned as he got out to hold the door open for the mortal pair.

"The Borghese counter is nearest, inside Kaplan's. Maybe I could make that stop first?" Bree asked.

"I am NOT stopping at a girly counter," Tris announced.

"Me either," Barnaby agreed. "I'm sure you can handle all that — that — stuff — by yourself, Bree. The VCR department could take a while, you know, comparing features and so on. You may be done long before Tristan has helped me make up my mind."

"Or maybe not," Tris interjected. "One never knows, and you did say it has been a while since you got — whatever it is women get."

Bree nodded. "I understand what you are saying, though I am not sure I agree with your reasoning. So you want me to meet you up in electronics then?"

Barnaby nodded. "Yes, that seems like the wisest plan."

XXX

When the two men got upstairs, Barnaby looked around in amazement. "I had no idea there was so much stuff here."

"Really? Talking about shopping and comparing stuff, you sounded rather expert," Tris remarked.

"Not really. I have learned to be a good shopper over the years. Living on a teacher's salary, and learning how to tell the difference between a good salesman and one that is just out for a commission was a necessity then."

"Oh."

"So I guess the best thing is to look at the different makes and models, and try not to get one that has too many bells and whistles? Also, Blackie said something about staying away from house brands."

"Good plan, where electronics are concerned, I imagine, even though Martha says that generic aspirin cures headaches just as well as the higher priced stuff."

"Sounds like a lesson Claymore would have taught," Barnaby smiled slightly.

"May I help you, gentlemen?" A clerk came up to them, smiling.

"Could you point out the VCRs?" Barnaby asked.

"Beta-Max or VHS?" was the reply made through another broad grin.

"VHS," Tris said hastily, recalling what the Doctor and Rose had told them, months before, about the Beta format not lasting.

"They do cost a tad more," the clerk replied.

"I'm aware of that," Barnaby answered amiably.

Impressed, the clerk gestured. "Right this way."

The teacher couldn't help looking a bit smug. _Okay, sometimes wealth did have its privileges._

XXX

Barnaby was still filling out papers for the warranties on two different models of VCRs; he thought it best to try more than one kind, when Bree found the men again.

"And, I believe I heard you say that I'd be the one who would take longer?" she remarked dryly.

"I had no such thought! I was thinking only of the, well, new toys," Tristan grinned. "Get what you came after?"

"Of course, even if it was the last of my shade of foundation. Not many people want the palest, it seems."

"Much less blue," he agreed.

"Ah, the blue is for my bath, not my face. That was in the promo, and yes, I got that and there was Fango in there, too, so—"

"What in the seven seas is a Fango?" Tris cut her off, his face a puzzle. "Something to do with teeth? Cowboys? Vampire cowboys, maybe?"

Bree blinked. _How had he come to that notion?_ "There are certain supernatural things I will accept, but that idea is not one. I'd sooner believe in someone flying around space and time in a phone booth. It's a mud mask. I'll look a fright when wearing it, but I'll be gorgeous for the dance."

"A fact I am sure Blackie will appreciate," Tristan nodded. Then, he added in a rush, "Of course, you don't need the help."

"Good answer." To show she had no hard feelings, she smiled and patted his arm. "Where to now?"

"Arby's, or that roasted chicken place in the food court, it's almost noon," Barnaby said, looking up. "Then, we figured on going to find something to rent to watch on one of these machines."

"After we pick them up at the loading dock," Tristan put in.

"Right, and also, we want some blank tapes."

"Great plan," Bree nodded. "But unless you guys decide to purchase _Star Wars_, or something, while we are here, you might want to rent something a little closer to home. If I remember correctly, Stan Perkins carries tapes to rent at the general store."

"I can pop them back if it is needed," Tris whispered, and then smiled.

"True, but why put yourself out? Stan could use the business. I like supporting Schooner Bay when I can."

"She has a point," Barnaby agreed. "I would have bought these machines in town if anyone carried them."

"Fine with me," Tris shrugged. "I agree. So the next order of business is—?"

"Lunch," Bree decided. "Then we can look for tapes, and window shop." Tris rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that look," Bree grinned. "I know your feet don't get sore, and I thought YOU, Mister Matthews, might like to get a look at the most current style of men's formal dress. You know my grandfather does it all the time."

"I'm not a dandy."

"No, you aren't, by any means, but—"

"I think I'm insulted," he interjected, with a snort.

"Let me finish. No, you aren't, but you ARE going to be at the cotillion, and you don't want to show up in last year's tails."

"Or last CENTURY'S," Barnaby said, very quietly.

"All finished, sir?" clerk asked, coming back toward the service counter. "And how were you going to pay for that today? Check? Charge?"

"Cash." Barnaby said, reaching for his wallet. He gave Tris and Bree a wink. "I came prepared."

"Boy scout," the ghost teased. "Can I come with you if you ever decide to buy a car? I'd love to see a car salesman's face if you handed him cash for a car!"

"Let me finish this transaction first," Barnaby smiled, handing the astonished clerk the money. Barely noticing the goggled eyes, he went on absently, "I doubt any of my family would be happy if I did get a car, it'd mean I'd be driving; something they object to, for some reason." He shrugged. "Maybe, if Daniel's 'cousin' could get me a car like he uses, though."

"KITT?" Bree laughed. "You are short about forty nine-million, I understand."

The clerk counted back the change to Barnaby, and then asked, "Are you sure there isn't anything else I can get you, sir?"

"Blank tapes would have been nice," Barnaby answered absently.

"Sorry," The clerk shook his head. "You missed it by about a week. We'll start stocking them then. I know — nuts. We have the machines, not the tapes. Just be careful what kind you get, and if you have any questions at all about the hook up, just call me."

"Do we have to go to a specialty shop, or would somewhere like Kresge's have them?" Tristan asked.

"They should, yes."

"Marvelous," Bree sighed. Had the two men been allowed in a specialty shop, no doubt they'd never get home again.

XXX

Halfway through the meal, Barnaby remembered he wanted to stop at Walden's and get the latest in the _Wagon's West_ series. It really wasn't the sort of book he preferred, but given the historical accuracy and the fact that he would be teaching Jess's American history classes for at least the first month of school, he was enduring them. The English teacher had strongly suggested he should also read _Sacajawea,_ and in such a fashion as to make him feel like she might expect him to write an essay on the book. For that reason, he refused to touch the thing with ten-foot reading glasses.

"While you're there, would you grab Carole Nelson Douglas' book for Jenny and Dave? I did promise to pick it up, but—" Tristan began, reaching in his pocket for the ten dollar bill Dave had given him for the trade paperback. "I think it's called _Probe,_ and they will re-kill me if you pay for it."

Barnaby frowned, but accepted the currency. "If I want to read it, would they let me pay half?"

"Negotiations are up to you," the ghost grinned.

After the professor was gone, Bree said, "You got distracted among all the flashing lights, bells, whistles, and so on in the electronics place."

"Sort of, yeah."

"Men! All of you are incorrigible," she remarked fondly.

"No more so than women about their — stuff," Tris argued.

"Maybe, in any case, this junior sandwich is still bigger than my appetite, so I'm done if you are. Shall we bin the trash and find Barnaby before he gets lost in the stacks?"

"Good plan." Tristan rose, cleared the remains onto a tray which he emptied into a trash can that was conveniently nearby, and then offered her his hand chivalrously to help Bree rise.

"I can stand on my own," she remarked.

"I was raised to always, and I do mean always, be courteous, which entails helping ladies up, holding their chair, opening doors, protecting them from crowds, and so forth. Should I fail to, Siegfried would sense it and swoop down, giving me a lecture that would blister my ears if I could understand more than every third word."

"Oh, Bronwyn's improved him. I can understand every OTHER one, when he goes on a rant."

"Not when he's truly steamed."

They shared a grin, and as Bree turned to head out into the throng, she suddenly stumbled as one leg began to buckle under her. Hastily, Tristan reached out to steady her and then gave her a supportive arm while she steadied. "Are you all right?" he frowned, clearly worried.

"Yeah, I just have a horrible habit of sitting — oddly, with one leg kind of folded up under me. Foot went to sleep, and objected to being woken up," she replied ruefully. "So much for my quest to move in a sleek, lithe, catlike manner; I'm doomed to being a klutz."

"No, you aren't. You just need to break yourself of that," he shrugged. "Oh dear, I sounded like my brother then."

"You can break that habit, while I learn to sit properly."

"Are you past the prickles stage?" Tristan asked, not wanting to call sounding like Sig a "habit."

"Yes; you remember what that feels like?"

"Indeed I do. Besides, it's not that long ago that I — er — ask your Uncle Charlie about the last visit of the _Vulture_; I got reminded once or twice."

"I gather that's not an unpleasant relative, like Carolyn's Aunt Bats?"

"Unpleasant, yes, relative, no. Long story. Nobody has told you? You are still walking funny. Better hold on to me for another minute or so."

"All right," she nodded, but what is the story?"

"One not to be told in public."

"Blast. On the way home, maybe?"

"Assuredly."

"Marvelous. Than I suggest we go find Barnaby before he wanders anywhere else, and go get those blank tapes."

"Great idea. I want to get home and—"

"—Play with the new toys?"

"Yes," he laughed, and arm-in-arm, they headed in the direction of the bookstore.

Unbeknownst to them, someone had seen their exchange and was almost dancing with excitement. From two stores away, Penelope Hassenhammer watched the pair with glee.

"So that little English chit is two-timing Blackwood already!" She almost laughed out loud. "And with Tristan Matthews, Candy's old boyfriend, of all people! Wonderful! I can't wait to tell Mama and Jane about this! AND Blackie!"


	9. THE NEW TOY

**9 – THE NEW TOY**

"How ironic," Daniel commented as he re-read the most recent pages in their book.

"What is, and why?" his wife asked.

"We are giving Claymore 'cool' lessons, even as we are working on recounting an adventure when we did exactly the same thing."

"I hadn't thought about that," Carolyn smiled. "What a time that was! Especially when he decided I was in love with him! Thank goodness we knew the perfect way to bring him back to himself. Darling?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"I was just wondering; you have tried several times to reshape Claymore. It's never stuck. Not really. Do you think all the work you and the crew have done with him will—?"

"—Stay with him this time around? I don't know. But I do mean what I said. Since this time he WANTS to learn to be better, maybe it will. I hope so. No one should be too old to learn."

"You are the perfect example," she smiled. "That's a very small part of what this book about our first two years is about; me, too."

"Ah, but you are a far better incentive to change and grow than the one Claymore cites; ego."

"Maybe love, but I do understand how he feels about having relatives that belittle you. Hazel and Harriet did the same thing to me when I was a child. I don't think it was malicious, but when they came to visit, it was always abundantly clear that I should do things their way, because they were older, and knew so much more than I did. And they used to make fun of my writing — something I started doing when I was about six or seven. Just little stories, but they thought I was silly, doing it just for fun."

"What made them stop?"

"I won a prize in a children's literary magazine for a short story I submitted. It was a sea adventure, a small one, now that I think about it."

"I'd love to read it sometime."

"Oh, darling, it was ages ago. I don't even think I have it any more. I can't even remember all the details of it now. Just that I was thrilled to know that my stories weren't "silly" at all and that Harriet and Hazel were impressed. A little ego boost is good for one, now and then."

"Surely your parents kept it?"

"I don't know. I suppose I could ask them sometime."

"Do, please."

She kissed him. "I'll have to work up my patience quota to deal with them."

"Your parents?"

"My cousins."

"Oh, don't as THEM if they remember the story," Daniel shuddered, "Just Brad and Emily. If I know anything about your mother at all, I'll wager that she has every last scrap of your childhood stored somewhere."

"Even things that are embarrassing," she nodded.

"Parents and guardians can be like that," he nodded. "Aunt Violet was. I'm so glad you got to meet her, love!"

The clock struck two and Carolyn looked to it in surprise. I suppose we should break here, soon. Tris said that they should be returning around now, with the VCRs, which probably means a few more of the crew will be showing up, anyway. I must admit, I'm getting intrigued with the idea. For all our sakes, I hope _1776_ can be bought somewhere, or Adam will be extremely annoyed."

"Jenny and Dave should be by," Daniel remarked.

"To watch the installation of the VCR?"

"No, they say they have a surprise for us."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, though if the machine is being set up while they do so, I hope Amberly is being baby-sat. She does not need to hear the air turn blue while the crew tries to attach all the cables properly."

Carolyn giggled. "You've got that right. I was talking to Mrs. Kemper last week, and she was telling me her daughter Melody, slipped not too long ago, when she accidentally dropped a coffee cup, empty, fortunately, and said a four-letter word, and her three-year-old, daughter heard her, and for the rest of the day, she was treated to her beautiful baby girl dropping one of her toy dishes and repeating the word! Actually, I think Martha is going to watch her for that long."

"You don't suppose the announcement is that she is with child again? It could be, you know, and if it is, now that Siegfried knows she's his niece—" Daniel trailed off, shaking his head. "He could well become worse about fussing than he did with Jess."

Carolyn smiled, and then frowned. "I'd love another grandchild, but I was rather hoping it would be Candy next. Though I am sure God has a plan."

Smiling, he winked, "I'll tell Blackwood you are applying his lessons well."

"Thank you, kind sir!"

At that moment, the doorbell rang, followed immediately by Dakota's bark.

"We will find out now, I imagine."

"It could be Tris, Bree and Barnaby."

"True."

The bell rang again.

"We won't know until we answer it." Carolyn said.

"Then let's."

XXX

As they received their visitors, Tris griped good-naturedly, "Thought I'd have to pop in to get you to open the door."

"Just finishing a conversation," Daniel smiled.

"Is that what it's called now?" Tris winked.

"Where should we put everything?" Barnaby asked, "In the living room?"

"Might as well," Bree answered, entering, "Since that's where the television is."

"What tools do you require?" the Captain asked.

"Just a screwdriver to attach this thing—" He held up a forked shaped wire affair, "—to where the antenna-lead is in the back of the TV, and we might need a drill if in case we need to put a little hole in the back of the cabinet where the VCR is, so we can plug it into the wall."

"Do we need Ed to come on over?" Carolyn fretted.

"I don't think so," Tris grinned. "The instructions the clerk gave me are easier to understand than the schematics in this so-called instruction manual. It shouldn't take us too awfully long."

"Setting the clock looks complicated, though," Barnaby frowned, looking at said-instruction book.

"Nonsense, I've been winding clocks for ages," the elder ghost huffed.

"Uh, it's digital," Barnaby added. "A.M., P.M., hours, minutes, day of the week, etcetera."

"What do we need all that for? I know what day it is."

"But the VCR doesn't, and if you don't have it set right, and want to time-tape a show, you could end up with _Sesame Street_ instead of the movie of the week, which might make Amberly happy, but tick you off."

The seaman shook his head. "Hrumph. That could still happen, if our local station runs true to form and changes the schedule abruptly."

"Can it tell when, say, the football game runs over and throws off the time that the movie of the week starts and finishes?" Carolyn asked. Not being a ghost, she sometimes found herself nodding before the killer was revealed, though if there had not been one of those blasted sporting things, she would have been bright eyed, or fairly so, at the conclusion.

"No, but you could allow for extra time and just build it into the timer setting," Tristan suggested. "It will even change channels for you."

"Or you can opt for the simple approach and get a blank tape and just hit record if you are watching the movie and get sleepy," Barnaby added, "It will record until it runs out of tape, automatically rewind, and you can watch the rest the next morning, or whenever you want."

"And, we brought some manufactured movies," Bree added.

"What did you get?" Daniel asked. Since discovering the cinema, he might have a disparaging view of most television programs, especially sit-coms, but he did like movies.

"We considered _Monsignor,_ but Stan told us how awful it was, so we got _The Four Seasons, Superman II and Hanover Street."_

"Good choices," the Captain approved.

"There are no lessons today?" Barnaby asked, looking around for Claymore.

"We needed to write," Carolyn smiled.

"I understand."

"Claymore called, though," Daniel added, "He sounded almost sorry that he couldn't come over; A novelty for him, really. I told him to work on his elocution lessons and read the SBB from first page to last to brush up on his civic affairs, just in case his cousin is inclined to ask any questions about the town."

"Daniel! You should have asked him to come. It would have been a nice treat for him," Carolyn chided gently.

"I DID, my love," the ghost answered. "But not for another two hours. I didn't want him hanging around during the set up processing and — stressing? Is that the word? He has enough to worry about right now."

"Besides, you know what they say about too many cooks; it's true of installation — ah — experts as well," Tris chimed in.

"Quite right, Seaman Matthews," the mariner answered agreeably. "Now what else do we need to do while you are installing the unit?"

"I do need a drill, with an inch-wide paddle bit. This rolling cabinet you have for the television is great, but the VCR sits below, and I have to run the power cord and cables from the back of the VCR to the back of the TV and to the wall. Gotta do that through a hole in the back. Otherwise they have to go around in front, and that does not look right. And this is thin wood; almost cardboard back here. I don't think I will make too much of a mess. Then it is just a matter of the antenna being attached. Thank goodness we wired that from the roof years ago! It is handy being able to go through walls. Then another cable goes from the VCR to the TV. Do you think, perhaps you will subscribe to pay cable, now that you have the VCR? You could be taping off a lot more channels than the networks, PBS station and an independent."

"Such as?" Carolyn inquired.

Tris waved a hand. "Dunno, but there are a lot of them, even without getting the ones you pay premium rates for, like HBO. Commercial-free movie stations, and others in Chicago, New York, California; sports channels, news channels, Home shopping channels, like the one Martha watches when she gets her hair done — the beauty shop has had cable since 1980, I think."

"I doubt Ed would appreciate that!" Bree laughed.

"He can only offer one opinion about what happens at his house," Daniel shrugged, and the doorbell rang. "I'll go get that," he nodded. "You have your hands full, Tris."

He was back a few minutes later, followed by Dash, Lynne and Jonathan.

"We found your wandering child in town and brought him home," Dash announced.

"I wasn't wandering!" Jonathan protested. "I wanted to pick up a few supplies before I go back to college. Stuff is cheaper here than at the college book store. I coulda walked home."

"What did we miss?" Lynne asked.

"Just the un-boxing," Carolyn answered. "We were discussing the merits of cable."

"Cable sounds like fun," Lynne smiled. "But I have been holding off. It seems I never have time to watch that much TV anyway, unless there is something really special on. Real life has been much more interesting of late," she went on, giving her handsome husband a smile.

Conversation stopped for a few minutes while Tris drilled a small hole in the back of the TV cabinet and slid the wires and cables through. Five minutes later, after the cables had been attached, and the unit plugged in, he gave a sigh of relief.

"There," he said, "First part done, I hope. Does someone want to try programming the clock, or should we see if a tape plays first?"

"Let me do the clock," Jonathan volunteered. "My roommate at college has one of these. It isn't hard. You do it all with the remote. Don't lose it, guys. I don't think even Captain Dad could program a VCR without one. I can show you how to do it later, before I leave. You really have to know, in case there is a power outage, or something. The clock goes kerflewy when that happens. And you will need to know for the end of daylight saving time in October, too."

Several frustrating minutes later, he had manipulated the controls on the VCR remote so that the clock displayed the right time, or within a minute of it.

"Time for a tape," Tris took a breath. "Let's start with a bought one, okay? If that works, we know the settings are right for viewing."

"Long as the VCR button is on," Jon added.

"Right."

Daniel picked up one of the tapes from the stack curiously. _"Hanover Street._ Looks like that fellow who played Captain Solo is in it also," he observed.

"He was in _Raiders of the Lost Ark,_ too, which was what I wanted to get," Tristan replied. "Didn't have it on tape though. And Baron Von Trapp is in it, also," he commented.

"And Leslie-Anne Downe," Lynne added, "Can't think of my favorite role for her."

"Not as Lois Lane, love," Dash mused. "I saw her on television in the musical version of _Superman _a few years back. It was not her finest hour; not her worst, either, but not the best."

"Uh, excuse me, Uncle Dash, but that was Leslie Anne Warren," Jon interjected. "She was in the musical version of _Cinderella_, too. I know it was her, not the other one because Candy had to watch it every year until it stopped playing. Say — maybe that will come out on tape? I could get a copy for Candy's birthday. 'Course, she will have to watch it at Gull Cottage. Guess that isn't a great idea, after all."

"My mistake," Dash bowed. "Now I don't know if I know the other actress at all!"

"Here, Captain," Tris floated the remote to Daniel, just as the doorbell rang again.

"Blast!"

"Never fails, the phone or doorbell rings when you are in the middle of something messy, a bath, or something you want to do," Jon remarked.

"The phone can ring off the wall, but I'm not leaving the tub to get it," Bree replied, thinking about her bath soak. "Who knows, maybe in a few years, they'll make phones you can use in the tub. Safely, I mean."

"I'd worry about electrocution," Lynne frowned, lowering her voice as her eyes moved toward the door to see who was being let inside. She was fairly sure it was family. Though Dakota was not the most menacing of guard dogs, being more apt to lick someone to death than bite them, she did get disturbed by strangers. However, Lynne had noticed she never got disturbed when a member of the crew sought entrance, and she was far more interested in seeing what Jon was up to than the activity at the door.

"Would someone grab Tribble and D. C.?" the boy asked. "I really don't need their help."

Chuckling, Carolyn reached over to scoop up the felines and a few seconds later, Daniel re-entered the room carrying his granddaughter while her parents trailed behind.

"You got it!" Jenny exclaimed, putting down a large, flat package, wrapped in brown paper.

"Of course," Tristan grinned at his niece. "Barnaby, Bree, and I are very reliable."

"Claymore is about twenty minutes behind us," Dave went on. "We ran into him in town."

"And he didn't try to get a ride?" Daniel asked. "He could have saved fuel."

Jenny shook her head. "No, just said he had an errand to run, bid us good afternoon, and took off." She smiled. "I've got to say, he was looking more together than I have ever seen him, even than at the cast party. Not the — voila, the prince has landed — Cinderella-ish, just more together. Know what I mean?"

"I think so," Carolyn nodded.

"He said he didn't have lessons this afternoon," Dave shrugged. "But it looks like they are taking, so to speak, with a vengeance."

"Jenny, what's in the package?" Carolyn asked.

"I was hoping everyone could be here for it, but I have, well, sort of a surprise. It's sort of not a surprise, too. That is, you guys know about it, but I think maybe you may have forgotten, what with the new book, and Claymore and all."

"Ghosts never forget," Daniel reminded her playfully.

"Good," Jenny laughed. "So if you remember what happened, here, in this house, about a month ago, than would you care to take a guess as to what is in the package?"

"That does cover a lot of territory," Carolyn noted aloud.

"I think I will let you have the fun of opening it," Jenny said, handing Daniel the parcel.

"Hey, Jen," Tristan interrupted. "Hate to be a wet blanket, but the VCR is ready. Do you think we can try at least the first part? Playing a movie and seeing if it works? I mean just to see if we get a picture." When she hesitated, he amended, "Let's just see if it will start and we can see it, then there's a pause, and/or stop button, and then he can open the package."

"Sure," the young woman answered agreeably. "I can wait. I want to see it work, especially if we can get it to record stuff, too."

"Says it will on the box," Bree shrugged.

"Them saying it, and us figuring out the fine points are two different things," Dave answered, putting an arm around his wife. "I had to put together Amberly's crib twice before I got it right."

"Here goes," Tris answered, and pushed a button.

The screen remained black.

"I can hear the tape moving," Barnaby offered. "There is a noise inside the machine."

"Hit fast forward," Jonathan said. "The beginnings of tapes have a part left blank; Like a leader tape in a cassette." Tris complied and suddenly, a picture was flying by at top speed, but with no sound. "Whoa!" the boy cried. "Hit play!"

They were rewarded with the strains of Vivaldi's _Four Seasons._

"That's it," Carolyn let out a sigh of relief. "That's the opening of the movie."

Applause broke out, and Tris hit the stop button. "Part one completed. We still need to see if it will record, though."

"Fantastic," Daniel smiled, "Movies any time we want them in the living room! Excellent job, Tristan, my boy."

The ghost took an elaborate bow, "Thank you, thank you very much."

"And to you, Jon," the Captain went on. "We couldn't have done it without you."

"Or Barnaby," Lynne pointed out. "He got it, after all."

The professor shrugged, turning slightly red at the praise.

"Are we expecting anyone else, since this is a family machine?" Daniel asked.

"Well, I let everyone know about when our wanderers might return and about how long it might take to get things in place. I made it clear they were all welcome," Carolyn shrugged. "And Claymore should be here any time, too, remember."

"Yeah, and I bought a brand new bag of popcorn," Jonathan added.

"We can't start the movie until that's made," Lynne grinned. "I forgot to have lunch; Sig was over at the theater helping Bronwyn get it ready for that school thing. He wasn't there to fuss at me for skipping."

Her husband glared. "Now, I will have to be sure and take note of when your assistant is busy so I can fill his shoes."

"I must open Jenny's package and we must all hear her news, first," Daniel pointed out.

"But I want to see if we can record something," Jenny protested, "I won't be able to rest quietly if we don't."

"You are sure?" Tris asked, "I could monkey with it tomorrow."

"Sure," Jenny nodded. "Amberly is happy with Grandpa, might as well do it now."

"Maybe just see if we CAN record, and work on the time recording later?" Carolyn suggested.

"Perfect," Daniel beamed.

Jon grabbed the _TV Guide._ "Let's see if anything worth recording is on." He scanned the pages for a moment. "Nothing. Blast."

"Then we put in a blank tape, and try anything," Barnaby said, pulling one out of the bag and removing the outer plastic.

Tris ejected _Four Seasons, _inserted the blank carefully, changed the channel with the remote to an afternoon talk show, and paused before pushing any buttons. "How long should I let it record?"

Lynne shrugged. "Not too long. Just enough to make sure we know what someone is talking about, I guess."

"There are worse people to tape than John Davidson," Jenny added, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Right," Carolyn nodded, glancing toward the set. "Hey, I think he is going to sing something. We can tape that and see it if works."

"Sounds good," Tris nodded, and as the opening bars started, he reached for the record button.

Even though the first few seconds failed to tape due to fumbling with the remote and figuring out which button to hit, a few minutes later, they had a perfectly taped, almost, copy of John Davidson singing _Tell Me You Love Me For a Million Years. _

"My kind of song," Daniel smiled, squeezing Carolyn's hand.

Careful not to startle the small child sitting on his lap, Carolyn leaned over and kissed him. "But that's not long enough, a million years is just a start."

No one said anything for a moment, and then Dash cleared his throat. "Now that our first project for the day is done, perhaps Jenny can show us her surprise?"

Just then the doorbell rang again.

"That'll be Claymore," said Dave.

"I can wait for him," Jenny added.

The bell rang again.

"Why doesn't he just come in?" Jon wondered. "He knows we are expecting him, right?"

"Maybe he is displaying good manners?" Carolyn smiled.

"Or the door is locked," Daniel pointed out.

"Etiquette has been a part of your instruction, has it not, darling?" Carolyn asked her husband.

"Yes, but he can't pop."

"Transmat!" the Farnons chorused, exchanging delighted grins at their synchonicity.

"Transmat," Daniel grinned. "I'll just go to the front door and let him in."

"Unless it's a salesman," Dash put in with a wink.

Rolling his eyes, the Captain disappeared. He was back a few minutes later with his supposed nephew.

Instantly, the lanky man's eyes fell on the VCR. "Is that it?" he sounded awed.

"That's it," Barnaby answered.

"And it works," Lynne added. "You're looking dapper, Claymore. "That's one of your new jackets, isn't it?"

Pleased, he preened and nodded, and then glanced toward his 'uncle.'

"Your spectacles look very good, also," Daniel nodded briefly. "Have you gotten used to them yet? We can't have you accidentally tripping because your eyes haven't adjusted."

Claymore nodded. "I believe so. I don't want to stumble over my feet and look like a — to borrow Dash's word, if I may, an "idgit" either."

"I wasn't thinking about that," Daniel huffed. "I just don't want you hurting yourself."

"Really?" Claymore gasped.

"Naturally. I'm not an ogre you know, and we've put a lot of work into your education. It would do no good to waste it."

"Very funny," Claymore gave him a withering look.

"And, we would not want you to sue or be laid up here for days again," the ghost added mischievously.

"I wouldn't dare; you have a good lawyer now. No way do I want to go up against Adam!"

"Very astute of you, dear boy. Besides, you DO have insurance now. We would pop you in the hospital for however long it took you to recover."

"You can't without my consent!"

"But if you were ill, or hurt, it would be the best thing for you. But we would visit every day."

"In Britain, we could section him and make him stay in the hospital as long as need be," Bree spoke up.

"Nobody is dissecting me," Claymore snapped. "Besides, my dear Bree, it is a moot point. I haven't hurt myself, so I don't know why we are discussing this. I just came over to say hello and see the new VCR." He shook his head. "Too bad I can't rent one for a week while Reggie is here. It would be impressive, and I could try it out at the same time."

"You can rent them, though I'm not sure what the price is," Dave offered. "Jen and I've considered a rent-to-own plan at the place in Skeldale, but are kind of leery. It'd be a very used one."

"Good point," Carolyn nodded. "There are a few video stores in the area. I don't know what the costs are, but a lot of people around here don't have one, and rent both the machine and movies and do a temporary hook-up for an evening. I suppose you could do that, Claymore. Just rent one for a week."

The older man shook his head. "Sounds expensive. It was just a thought, anyway. I suppose between one thing and another I will be busy enough with him without watching movies."

"This brings up my idea for the other VCR I purchased." Barnaby interrupted. "I like the idea of a traveling VCR. It can be carried to, or poofed to wherever we might need it and hooked up for special occasions. Jess and Adam have a good-sized house, as do Candy and Thom. Traveling poker and VCR parties. Claymore, we can start with you. We can hook it up at your house for your cousin's stay, and remove it when he leaves. A VCR is bound to impress him, at least a little. Just as long as YOU know it isn't permanently yours, and if the subject of watching a movie does come up, you will have to rent your own."

Claymore grabbed the millionaire's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "That would be great! Thank you so very much! Hey! If I have a black and white TV and the tape is in color, will it play in color? No, I guess not," he answered his own question. "Better rent a classic black and white. Reggie will never know!" He frowned. "I guess I won't be able to get away with feeding him Swanson's Frozen Dinners all the time though, or go to Norrie's all week, can I?"

"He may not mind lobster dinners all week, Clay, but breakfast and lunch might be a little iffy," Dash grinned, "Costly, too." He tapped his chin. "Essentially, you have to worry about Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. What time does his flight get in on Wednesday?"

"Not until about four. I don't know if he will get a meal on the plane or not. If he is in first class, which he most likely will be, probably so." The landlord shrugged. "Maybe we can talk about it later, though. Captain Gregg said Jenny has a surprise, too. Okay if I get to see what it is?"

"Sure."

"I wanted to be polite and not just push my way in. Part of those etiquette lessons Dash and the Captain have been drilling into my head, you know."

"Good show," Dash nodded, slightly amused.

"I'm doing my best. I'm almost feeling ready for Reggie. Almost."

"Take my seat, Claymore," Jon said, standing. "I can grab a piece of floor."

"I could pop over my beanbag chair?" Tristan offered. "I rather enjoy it when I'm in solid state."

"Oh, I'm cool," Jon shrugged. "I want to see Jenny's surprise."

Tristan shrugged. "Well, I offered."

Jon glanced at the ghost. "Of course, if you insist. I was just trying to take a leaf from Claymore's book, too."

"There's such a thing as being too polite," Tris grinned, and blinked out. He was back a few seconds later with the beanbag, which Jonathan flopped into immediately. "Now, if everyone is ready? Jenny, you have the floor."

Affirmatives rumbled through the room.

"After all this buildup, I'm not sure if my little project will live up to everyone's expectations, but here goes." Jenny took a deep breath as she reached for the package. "Captain, do you remember the story you told Amberly and Abby a little while back? About Noah, and the flood, and God changing all the unicorns in the world to dolphins?"

He nodded, glancing at the little girl on his lap.

"And do you recall we kind of talked about collaborating on a children's book? We'd use your story, and I'd do the artwork?"

"Of course."

"Well, Candy wrote down the story for me, since she remembered it all, and I started working on the illustrations—" She took another deep breath, and tore open the package, which held a large portfolio, "And here they are." She handed the file to the Captain.

Handing Amberly to her grandmother, he opened it and slowly examined each page while the young woman mentally fidgeted and held her breath. Finally, he said, "Excellent work, dear girl, truly."

"Really?" the young woman breathed a sigh of relief.

"Really and truly, my dear."

"Maybe you can pass them around so we can all see?" Dave asked. "Jenny wouldn't show them to me even, until you saw them."

The pages began to float around the room.

"My dear, these are fabulous!" Dash exclaimed. "I love this one where the unicorn is under transition and is half-unicorn and half-dolphin!"

"So that's what you've been holing up and working on!" Tristan exclaimed. "I've got to go get Siegfried. When will it be published? I want an autographed copy. And of course, Adam has to have one for Abby."

"Hold your horses," Dave began.

"Or unicorns? And that's Sig's job."

"Hold your PIGS then, it hasn't even been sent out yet."

"No way, and why not?" the ghost returned without missing a beat.

"It just got finished," Jenny laughed.

"So? That's no excuse. I really do have to get Siegfried."

"Finding out you two are my uncles is mostly a blessing, but calm down the pride!" Jenny protested.

"Nonsense," Tris countered. "He's GOT to see these! Be right back!" So saying, the ghost disappeared.

"We should have just invited everyone to begin with," Carolyn remarked softly.

"Hard to invite everyone at one time," Jonathan shrugged. "Sean and Molly are working on the record this afternoon; just playing around with song ideas.

"Sounds like fun," Lynne noted. "Always a good listen."

"Devon Miles sent them a letter, inquiring," Dash grinned. "Sounded positively desperate, he did."

"Oh dear!" Bree exclaimed. "You know, I wish I knew if he was coming to the cotillion. He bought two tickets, of course, but he knows about us; the Dashire Foundation, and all. Could be just a donation, though he did say he would try. He'd like the music at the dance, I think."

"Did you—?" Dash began.

"Yes, Grandfather, I asked for Sam Cooke to be played once."

The dapper ghost glanced toward his wife who was blushing as red as a rose.

"And—?" Daniel added, "Bree?"

"The proud uncle has promised he'll be in charge of the music and will fulfill all requests. Within reason, which yours are."

Daniel glanced around the room. "Speaking of Tris, where is he? He said he would be right back."

"Siegfried probably began talking," Barnaby shrugged in a deadpan tone.

"I resent that," a voice came out of the blue, and Siegfried Matthews materialized, followed closely by Bronwyn Tegan, Sean and Molly O'Casey and finally his brother.

"Adam and Jess will be here shortly, Tris announced. And Thom and Candy will when he gets off work, which will be in about twenty minutes. Blackie, Martha and Ed, too."

"Looks like we are having a party," Carolyn grinned. Is that everyone?"

"If we are having a party, can we order pizza?" Jon inquired. "I could be hungry by the time it gets here."

"I thought we had popcorn?" Barnaby frowned. "Sig, I meant no offense; I just figured it would take a little longer than seconds for you to read and react."

"I know that, but I also know my weaknesses," the older ghost grinned, "Especially when I get excited. But Bron says I have been improving. Jenny, where are your drawings?"

"Bree has them."

"Here you are," the Englishwoman answered with a slight inclination of the head.

"Us, too," Sean and Molly popped over to where Sig and Bron were standing. "Just pass them right along, old son."

"Be patient," he grumbled.

"Didn't we prove we can be patient? More than patient?" Molly asked.

"Yes, so you are experts at it; I am not."

"That is true," Tristan could not resist saying.

"So, he should work on it, maybe?" Bronwyn suggested archly.

"Next time, we make multiple copies," Dave said to no one in particular.

"Smart boy," Daniel approved.

"Not to change the subject, but changing it," Carolyn said, trying to keep peace and fun in the air. "Did you see any David Niven movies for rent? Since he died so recently, I've wanted to see one or two."

"And is he a ghost?" Lynne chimed in. "If he attends the frat meetings, I'd have to crash."

"No, and yes. I mean yes and no," Barnaby replied vaguely.

"What?"

"They had one movie, one he did with Doris Day. _Please Don't Eat the Daisies_, but it was rented."

"But, how would you know if he's a ghost?" Jonathan asked.

"I don't. When I said "no," I should have said "I don't know." How could I?"

"I don't know either, Tris added. "All ghosts don't reside in Schooner Bay."

"Just enough for a baseball team," Claymore quipped, smiling.

"Including relief players?" Jonathan asked.

"Now I hadn't thought of that! We might have to borrow an actor or two. Or are any other ghosts thinking about taking up residence in Schooner Bay? If we could get them, we could have a heck of a team."

"They can't play," Bree informed him simply.

"You won't let them?"

"No, they don't know how. Jim might, but I don't think their ability to stay solid is THAT good yet."

"You actually are encouraging more ghosts coming to town, Clay?" Lynne asked, "I thought you said that the ghosts we have are enough."

"I've been looking at the entire situation through new eyes, of late."

"Oh?" Daniel asked, intrigued.

"Well, yeah. I mean, you guys have never HAD to be nice to me, but you are helping coach me to be cool like you, and even before, you have helped me with the theater and stuff, and before that, after I had my heart attack, and you've always included me in on things, even when I bet there were times you didn't want to, so I've decided that ghosts are pretty awesome after all."

"Who's been teaching you modern slang?" Siegfried asked, looking up from his reading to peer over the top of the glasses he did not need any longer, but still he considered them part of his wardrobe.

"Heard it on TV," Claymore shrugged, "Good word when used in the right context, I think. And The Fonz, you know, on _Happy Days?_ uses the word 'cool' a lot. Kinda the same thing."

The group hid a smile. There was no doubt that their old friend, under Daniel and the other's tutelage, was improving by leaps and bounds, but "The Fonz," he was not.

"Let's go ahead and order pizza," Carolyn put in. "Everyone else should be here shortly, and we can watch a movie."

"I could pick it up, it'd stay even hotter," Tris offered.

"And save delivery fees," Clay blurted. "Sorry! That just came out."

"No need for apologies," Daniel smiled at his would-be relative. "You have a very good point. The pizza place isn't that far away, as the ghost flies, especially, and delivery fees are outrageous."

"What's my share?" Claymore asked, slowly pulling out his wallet. Unable to stop themselves, everyone stared in amazement. "Don't give me that look!" the man protested. "I know I owe something and — and I'm practicing for when Reggie is in town. I guess I am going to have to pick up the tab on at least a couple of meals. Doesn't mean I want to pay for all of the pizza though. Three dollars sound okay? Or maybe I could go get it, but that isn't sensible because one of you guys could — watchamacallit — transmat to get it faster."

"Tell you what, let's decide what I'm getting, and when I bring it back, I'll know the total," Tris suggested.

"Okay," Claymore nodded happily, putting his wallet back in his pocket. "Say, tonight is gonna be fun! I don't suppose we could do any dancing later? No, I guess not. But I could still use a little practice waltzing."

"You're getting much better," Bron volunteered. "You've been a good pupil. You just need to relax a little more."

"Easier said than done!"

"Claymore, if I could direct a show with my late husband leaning over my shoulder and causing problems, waltzing should be easy. Now stop worrying. We can practice a little every day until he gets here, if you still think you need it."

"And tomorrow I'll Simonize your car," Tris added. "Get it all cleaned and waxed and ready for Wednesday."

"You guys are too kind to me—" Claymore almost choked out the words.

Barnaby raised an eyebrow. "I think it's all in the family, don't all of you agree?"

Even Daniel, albeit with a hint of reluctance, agreed. He still did not believe Claymore was related to him — directly!

XXX

By the end of the evening, Carolyn had made a list, with the help of everyone in attendance, of movies they wanted to rent, if they were available, to see at movie parties, which would alternate with the poker nights, albeit possibly irregularly. There was a bit of everything on the list; _Star Trek I and II, Eternally Yours, Teacher's Pet, Excalibur, Sabrina, An Officer and a Gentleman, Clash of the Titans, Ice Castles, Star Wars, Vertigo, the Sandpiper, Von Ryan's Express, _and that was just a start. They all agreed that once the cotillion was in the past and Reggie had gone home, a celebration would be in order. It would just have to be soon after that, before Jonathan had to go back to school. Tris suggested collecting sleeping bags, bean bag chairs, and giant cushions and having a slumber party to watch films until the mortals could not stay awake any longer.

Molly reminded him that there were babies involved, and Amberly was old enough that she'd probably try and stay awake to watch if it interested her and Bree wondered idly what her actors would think of the new contraption.


	10. THE ARRIVAL

**10 – THE ARRIVAL**

**Wednesday, August 24, 1983**

Even without new hi-tech equipment at hand, the next few days were busy ones. Bree's days were full of tasks that involved the cotillion, and Claymore and one ghost or another still worked on refining his social skills. Finally it was Wednesday, the day of Reggie's arrival. Claymore was due to pick him up at the airport at noon.

XXX

_**"Are you sure you are feeling well enough to leave, Sanford?" Kathleen Jones asked; a touch of concern in her voice.**_

_**"Oh, yes," Sanford Kreuger answered eagerly. "I'm as sharp as a harp!" Their landlord did a little dance step as proof. "See?" He paused. "Say, I know I have been a lot of trouble**_**—**_**"**_

_**"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Mrs. Jones demurred, though the she was thinking exactly the opposite.**_

_**"Let me, then," Mabel Forrester, Mrs. Jones' housekeeper replied. "You've been a LOT of trouble!"**_

_**The family laughed as the figure of Captain Edward Smythe materialized, visible only to Kathleen. "I second your housekeeper, Madam," the spirit frowned.**_

_**"Oh, and Mrs. Jones, you know what?" Sanford Kreuger went on, "I've decided not to sue you after all. Now isn't that generous of me?"**_

_**"Yes, it is!" Kathleen agreed. "Bye, now," she added, anxious to get the man off her property. She snuck a look at her ghost and noticed the horrified look on his face; for there, directly in the path of Sanford, waving, and walking backwards down the flagstone walk, was her son Jimmy's skateboard! The Captain popped out a second later, and Kathleen watched as the toy magically moved aside and out of the landlord's way, just as his foot came down.**_

_**Everyone continued to wave as Sanford seated himself in his rattletrap car, started the engine, put it in gear and drove off down the dirt road.**_

_**The Captain appeared beside Mrs. Jones and heaved a sigh of relief, and as he did so, she glanced over at him fondly. He smiled back at her and joined in invisibly on the good-byes**_**—**

_XXX_

"There!" Carolyn Gregg took a deep breath and pulled the sheet out of the typewriter. "Another one finished, except for tweaking later, maybe!" She frowned slightly. "I have simply GOT to think of another name for me besides Kathleen. Jones is okay, but not Kathleen. I just can't decide on the right one." The Captain swallowed a smile as she looked at the clock. "It's almost three. Claymore should be back in town with his cousin before too long."

"Airports, as I recall, are rather chaotic," the Captain noted.

"True, but his plane was supposed to land at one-thirty," Carolyn worried. "I do hope Claymore's car didn't break down or anything. One of us should have gone with him."

"He did consider borrowing a car from the funeral home and getting Tris to act as his driver."

"What stopped him, as if I didn't know?"

"He realized a hearse is not impressive; Limo, yes, hearse, no."

Carolyn giggled. "Remember when he borrowed the tux from the undertaker? What was his name, Felix? When he went to that wedding my parents set up for us? When they thought he was you?" She stroked her Captain's bearded face. "They were right, you know. I was in love with Daniel Gregg; I just couldn't marry him, then."

"You have wise parents," he responded as he gave her a brief kiss.

"Good instincts, anyway," she smiled. "They knew something was up, they just didn't know what. Rather like Candy and Martha FEELING your presence, even whey they hadn't officially met you during part of our first two years here."

"Somehow, I doubt Reggie will be so insightful. He does not sound like one to have ghost-dar."

"I don't think so either. It really didn't occur to me that he would. And he shouldn't be over here too much. I hope not, anyway, for that means you will have to alter your appearance, and while I am very fond of Daniel Miles, he isn't you." She looked at her watch again. "However, Claymore did say that he would swing by here for the introductions. Frankly, I think he is looking for a little reinforcement. I wonder where he could be?"

At that comment, the doorbell rang.

"Speaking of which—"

"That must be him!" Carolyn finished, excitedly. "Blast — I can't pop! Come on, let's go!"

"Out the back door?"

"No!" Carolyn swatted him. "To the front door! I'm anxious to meet this cousin that has Claymore in such a tizzy."

"Don't say I didn't offer an escape."

"Aren't you the least bit curious, Daniel?" Carolyn asked, as they went down the stairs to the foyer. "Claymore has improved over threats of this guy."'

"Naturally, I am, but invisibility is still an asset."

"You are going to have to explain that one later," Carolyn answered, and threw open the door. "Welcome!" she smiled. "Were so glad to see you—" She broke off. Claymore Gregg was standing on the porch. Alone.

"Is he invisible?" she asked, only half-seriously.

Claymore shook his head violently. "No — He just wasn't there!"

"He isn't coming?" Daniel asked.

"No, he's coming, he just isn't here."

Carolyn looked puzzled. "I don't understand."

"Look, can I — I mean, may I come in? I'll tell you all about it."

Carolyn and Daniel nodded simultaneously in mutual agreement. Claymore Gregg definitely looked in need of some TLC.

Martha, who happened to be there that day, came out of the kitchen bearing a tray with extra fancy cookies and though not the Gregg silver, on an ornate coffee and tea set. When she realized that there was no one in the room that she did not know, she stopped dead in her tracks. "Where is he? The cellar?"

"We have yet to determine if he's worth killing," Daniel quipped.

"He's not here," Carolyn added after giving her husband a look.

"Well, this is heavy, so if there's no reason for me to tote it—"

Since Reggie was not there, Daniel had no compunctions about using his powers. Before the sentence could be fully formed, he gestured very slightly, causing the burden to free itself from Martha's grasp and settle on the coffee table.

"If you ever give up the sea, and writing, you'd make a fantastic butler," Martha teased dryly.

He lifted his brows, but did not thunder.

"A butler would be good to have. Those are really impressive," Claymore muttered.

"Are you sure you need to be impressive? Was the flight canceled or delayed?" Carolyn asked.

"Or hijacked?" Martha put in as she reached out to take one of the cookies and place in Claymore's limp hand. "You look like you've got low blood sugar."

"I probably do," he sighed. "Here, I was all set to get it out of the way, I was ready for him, and then, after making that long trip, using my own gasoline and time, he's not there."

"Did you check to see if he was scheduled on that flight? Maybe he took another one, or just missed it?" Daniel asked. "Such things do happen."

"Well that's what I was going to tell you guys. See, I got there and parked my car — Sheesh, airport parking has gone up! Went to the gate he was due to come in on, got there EARLY even — watched the flight before his land and disembark, then the flight he was supposed to be in on landed, and I waited for that whole plane to unload and nothing. So I go over to the desk and ask the lady there was there a Reginald Nyland on the flight, and she looked at her chart, and finally said, no, looks like he missed it. Then the guy at the desk said, "Hey is your name Claymore Gregg?" I said yeah, and he said he had a message for me from Reggie. Mister Nyland would be landing the same time, only TOMORROW! Now I ask you — why couldn't he just have called me before I left to go get him?"

Momentarily at a loss, Carolyn replied after a pause, "Maybe he thought he had waited until too late to catch you at home, that by the time he knew, you'd have already been gone. You really do need an answering machine, Claymore."

"They're still expensive. I looked in Keystone last week. The lowest, off-name brand was 60.00."

"It might prove to be an investment, though. Customers could leave messages for you when you are out," Carolyn suggested.

"Say," Claymore mused. "You have a point! And I bet I could write it off as a business expense, too." He paused. "But I didn't have one today, did I? Blast."

"Have you tried calling your cousin, Claymore? Martha asked.

"Yeah, I mean, yes. No answer." Claymore grinned slightly. "Guess Reggie needs one, too!"

"Of course, one must be there to hear the message," Daniel remarked, shaking his head.

"Uh-huh," the other man nodded. "But if he missed his flight, he should be home to get the message, right?"

"Did he SAY he missed it?" Martha asked.

"No, just that message that he would be in tomorrow instead. I'm half-inclined to tell him to catch a cab." Though Claymore's attitude was less than charitable, it was understandable and everyone really thought he was doing well to even consider displaying 

so much backbone. "I suppose I should consider myself fortunate that it is only him coming," Claymore half-smiled. "I don't know if I could figure out what to do to entertain his wife and kids."

"Why aren't they coming, Claymore?" Carolyn asked, "School isn't in session, or anything."

"Reg said something about prior commitments."

Martha spoke for them all with an eloquent, understated, "Oh."

"Well, I suppose I should get going," Claymore shrugged. "See if there is anything else that needs doing at my place. Unless—" He glanced at the Captain. "Unless you think I need more coaching tonight? Since we have the time available, I mean."

"There is such a thing as over-studying," the Captain replied, not really in the mood to teach, if truth be told.

"You really think I am ready, Captain?"

"You're as ready as you'll ever be, Claymore."

Claymore frowned, puzzled as to whether or not this was a compliment or criticism.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Carolyn asked. "We were going to eat early tonight; just soup and sandwiches, and then Daniel and I are going to draft another chapter of our book."

"Well, if you're sure—" He would never turn down a free meal.

"I'm sure, Claymore. You've had a busy day. You deserve it."

"I guess I do, don't I?"

Daniel gave a small sigh. Some things would never change.

XXX

The ghost and Mrs. Gregg were finally scheduled to meet the infamous Reggie the next afternoon, at roughly the same time as they had expected him the day before. Also on hand for the meeting were the O'Caseys and Dashires.

"After all, we really must meet this paragon of irritation at the earliest possible opportunity," Dash drawled as they waited for the arrival.

"We would have been here yesterday," Molly added, "but Jess and I were up to our ears in flour, sugar, and cinnamon."

"Music to my ears, pray tell, why do you simply mention this event and not bring samples?" Dash asked.

"Charlie," Lynne shook her head while Sean hid a smirk.

"Because they are for your grandchild's cotillion — refreshments, remember?" Molly sighed. "We don't want to run short, now do we?"

"Let me think. You failed to mention chocolate, I noticed."

"Not all recipes call for that, old son," Sean could not quite hold back his mirth.

"And, chocolate could stain ladies' dresses, not to mention gentlemen's suits, since not all folks can just magic up new clothes," Carolyn pointed out. "Sugar cookies are more in keeping with the theme, anyway. Wasn't chocolate a bit hard to come by in your day?"

"Unfortunately," Dash nodded.

"Melting was a problem, as was importing," Daniel explained.

"Which is why I have been making up for lost time since I passed on," Dash grinned.

"Horribly unfair that spirits can't get fat," Lynne sighed patting her thigh.

"I thought it was men in general that seem to be able to eat more sweets and treats and not pay for it later," Molly added.

"Not all men," Lynne frowned. "And I've advised enough of them to lose twenty pounds to know."

"Like Claymore," Daniel nodded. "That's another thing I have noticed while we have been coaching him. He does seem to be sticking to his diet, and I think — think, mind you, he might have lost a couple of pounds."

"About time."

"He has been much better since you gave him that nightmare about being an inept ghost, way back when," Carolyn smiled.

"Not that long ago," Daniel smiled.

"It seems like it! Look at how much has happened to us all in such a short space of time! Reunions, marriages, births — and everyone has just — cuddled in so nicely."

"Including the babes," Dash interjected, "The most wonderful thing of all. I missed so much of that! I am hoping for more."

"If you are hinting, you're wasting your time, Charlie. I'm not going through that now," Lynne warned.

"Fear not, luv," Dash answered, putting an arm his wife's shoulder. "As much as I may wish it, it isn't possible, at least that I have ever heard of. But there is Candy and Thom and the adoption — Jenny and Dave are young yet and—" he shrugged.

"I don't believe Adam's nerves could handle Jess having another," Molly quipped.

"I don't think Charlie was thinking of Adam," Lynne chuckled, giving her husband a nudge with her elbow. "YOU stop putting the cart before the horse. If things are going to happen, they will happen."

"Jon isn't dating anyone regularly enough to match-make," Carolyn blinked. "Mother would have told me and hired the minister if he was."

The room rang with laughter and then Lynne shook her head again. "If I am not mistaken, Charlie was thinking about Bree."

"I want her happy."

"So do we all, but marriage does not always equal happiness," Carolyn answered gravely.

"Aye," Sean nodded.

"I trust you do not speak personally, my dear?" the Captain asked.

"Very personally, but not about YOU," she looked somewhere between thoughtful and bitter. "I was thinking of Bobby." Thunder cracked; Daniel would gladly throttle that rat. "Calm down, darling," Carolyn put a gentle hand on her husband's arm. "He's dead and very much gone. I was just offering an example. I'm sure all will work out as it should."

"When are Clay and Reggie due to arrive?" Sean asked, changing the subject.

"Soon," Carolyn replied.

"He was coming straight here, even before giving Mr. Nyland a tour of the town?" Molly asked. "I was thinkin, Clay is related to the Captain by the thinnest of threads, according to what he finally told us. I hope Reggie doesn't think it odd that he is bringing him to Gull Cottage."

"We're as close to family as he has, blood or none," Carolyn shrugged.

"And we have a snack for the traveler waitin'," Molly added. It makes sense — unless Reggie decides he just wants to go to the Inn and unpack."

"I hate waiting," the Captain remarked.

"Claymore has been waiting longer," Lynne pointed out, "And worrying, though I wish he wouldn't. But you know, I do sort of understand. I love my older sister, but a visit from her could be a little stressful, at least, even if I am much more secure than Claymore is."

"Even Blackie agrees with that," Dash noted.

"She's — formidable," Daniel agreed as tactfully as possible; he had met her briefly when Adam and Jess married.

"And as soon as Jess nails down a christening date for Abby, we'll get to see her again," Lynne nodded with false cheer. "Think Bree can handle her, Charlie?"

"If the relationship is to survive, she will have to," the nobleman observed as he glanced out the window again. "I would point out that I managed, and my granddaughter's blood runs true. She's a credit to my family tree, so I expect it to go smoothly enough."

Before any more could be said about outlaws or in-laws, a familiar rattle was heard.

"If Claymore ever gets rid of his 'vintage' automobile," Sean remarked, "he'll manage to sneak up on us."

"Well, ye have to admit, darlin', 'tis a miracle that he's kept it alive for so many years!" Molly said. "Indeed it is. I'll bet if a collector comes along, Claymore will be getting a new one. As I hear from Tristan, who investigated after Bron mentioned something about it, such a machine would make a car buff; I think he called them, quite envious."

"So, it's the James Gatley of autos?" Daniel asked dryly.

"Something like that," his wife winked.

"The only difference between a hunk of junk and a classic is how well it is maintained," Lynne grinned. "And maybe knowing which cars could be classics in twenty-five years."

"And I had nothing but the former, the first few years we lived here," Carolyn smiled. "Three cars I owned the first two years we lived in Schooner Bay! I didn't get a decent one until after the first edition of Daniel's Memoirs came out."

Sean shook his head. "I still wish someone would have snapped up the movie rights."

"It would have been nice," Carolyn sighed. "But on the other hand, I can't think of an actor alive that could compare to the real man." She gave her husband a loving look.

A knock prevented more than a brief kiss of thanks and a smile.

"I suppose it is up to me to answer the door," Daniel said, morphing into his Daniel Miles face.

"It's been your door the longest," Carolyn teased.

"For that remark, my dear wife, love of my heart and soul, you can come with me."

"Are we all going?" Lynne asked.

"That might be a little intimidating," Sean answered. "Barnaby didn't get that treatment, and we weren't even expectin' him,"

"And I can be as intimidating as need be," Daniel promised.

"Then we will wait here," Dash answered as the doorbell rang again, followed immediately by Dakota's bark.

"We'll be right back," Carolyn nodded, taking her ghost's arm.

Reaching the foyer and the front door, the couple shooed Dakota out of the way, then, grimacing, the ghost twisted the knob to allow the cousins to enter.

"Good, afternoon — Daniel," Claymore stammered slightly over the use of his 'uncle's' first name.

The seaman accepted the familiarity without any outward reaction, though he dearly would have liked to thunder. Claymore had a point. "Captain" would require more explanations and/or fibbing. Best keep it simple; the town DID know him as Daniel or Danny Miles, after all. He felt Carolyn give his hand a loving, knowing squeeze. Of course she knew what he was thinking! At least Claymore hadn't said "Captain Uncle" or "Uncle Gregg."

"Good afternoon and welcome!" he answered, keeping his voice level. He turned to the newcomer. "You are Reginald, of course. Allow me to introduce my lovely wife, Carolyn."

It took great willpower for Mrs. Miles to not flinch when Reggie's cold hand took hers so he could place a chilly kiss on it. "Uhm — come in," she stammered. "You must be tired, after your trip." She gestured toward the entryway to the living room where the Dashires and O'Caseys were waiting.

The moment she could, Carolyn rubbed her hand on her skirt. True, she would not get 'cooties,' but the 'ick' reaction demanded that.

At first glance, the ghosts present could see why Claymore was in awe of his cousin. For being in his mid-fifties, (and mortal) the man did stand out in a crowd. He was tall, had vivid blue eyes, and a dimple on his chin in just the right place. Every blond hair was immaculately arranged, and he flashed a wide smile with bright flashing teeth. He looked like he belonged in a toothpaste commercial. Lean, lithe and well built, his clothes, too, were impeccable, not a flaw, and Daniel noted with amusement that Dash was making note of a new suit he could manifest later. The only mortal the ghosts had ever seen dressed better in Schooner Bay was Devon Miles.

Reginald Nyland strode into the room like he owned it.

"Reg, allow me to introduce—" but his cousin cut him off and headed straight toward Molly.

"You MUST be Molly O'Casey," he started, "I've heard about you from my cousin here, but he failed to say just how lovely you are! May I—?" He reached for her hand without waiting for an answer. Unable to politely escape, Molly allowed him to kiss it, but had to use everything in her to not dematerialize.

"And allow me to introduce Mr. O'Casey, Molly's HUSBAND," Claymore said, pointedly. Reggie rolled his eyes slightly and shook the Irishman's hand. "And—" Claymore went on hurriedly, Lord Charles and Doctor Lynne Dashire."

"Nobility? I thought Old Claymore was exaggerating. Surely no peer of the realm would exile himself HERE," Reggie answered, shaking Dash's hand and kissing Lynne's lightly.

"Ah, but I LIKE it here," Dash said quickly, "Visited this little village off and on for years. My closest friends and family are in this town, not to mention my wife's practice is here. I can think of no other place it the world I would rather be than Schooner Bay."

"But — it's so — so provincial!"

"I think of it as a nice, quiet, little town," Dash responded, "I like it."

"So do we," Sean and Molly said together.

"We've both did, I mean have done, quite a bit of travelin' and it has been the perfect place to put down roots," Molly added.

"Ah, yes," Reggie nodded. "My country cousin told me you used to go about the land with some minstrel group."

Sean bristled in his lady's defense, "Taliesin's one o' the finest Irish folk groups in the world. They toured in Europe mostly." Though not one to boast, he added, "Daniel's cousin, Devon Miles—"

"—Of Knight Industries," Claymore blurted out.

"—Was very impressed. He's collected their work."

"—And is helping Sean and Molly, and a few other members of our extended family produce an album of their own, " Daniel added.

"Oh, I'm sure it's quite — nice — if you're into that sort of music."

"I am, Reg," Claymore said, quietly, but firmly, and the other members of the crew noticed it.

Reggie just ignored the dissenting opinion. "Oh, I do wish you success, but I prefer more — sophisticated music, things that are timeless and last for centuries."

"Many of the Celtic tunes have existed for hundreds of years," Daniel pointed out. "Most have been around far longer than the great masters." He stroked his chin, where a beard would have been in his natural face. "Music is oxygen to the Gaels and Celts. It has preserved their cultures for eons and has an unbridled joy or sorrow, sometimes in the same piece. That will always draw people to it."

Reggie shrugged as he said, "To each his — or her — own, I suppose." In his tone was the clear implication that not everyone had his high standards.

"Variety is the spice of life," Carolyn smiled tightly, trying to keep the peace.

"Yes, I do believe the Vulcans said it well," Dash agreed, "infinite diversity in infinite combinations."

"You are one of the followers of that old show?" Reginald asked, turning up his nose. He made the word sound like an insult.

"That "old show" is still quite popular, and has paved the way for a lot of recent movie blockbusters," Lynne said. "In fact, we were all in line to see _Return of the Jedi _when my sister went into labor with my niece."

"I hope it didn't take place in the parking lot," their unwanted guest shuddered.

"Hardly!" Dash sputtered. "Lynne wouldn't have let that happen."

"Sure and you know that isn't likely," Molly's gentle voice interrupted, "seein' as you have babes of your own, so Clay tells us."

"Of course, mine were born under optimal circumstances, but not everyone manages that," Reggie thinly smiled.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "And that means what, precisely?"

"Best doctors, best hospital, you know. And my wife avoided all stress, followed her diet plan, and charted the pregnancy so that she knew precisely what day to plan for delivery."

"How nice for you," Daniel commented. _This is the man that Claymore has been working and studying so hard to impress? _he telegraphed, unheard except by the other ghosts in the room.

"Babies tend to make you answer to their schedule, not the reverse," Lynne dissented.

"Not MY children," Nyland's voice was firm.

Molly bit her lip slightly, wondering what woman would yoke herself to this man. "Is your family going to be joining you in Schooner Bay, later?"

Reggie shook his head. "No — my children, Gloria and Richard, are in a summer camp for gifted students, and my wife, Alberta — well, truth be told, she and old Claymore don't really get on too well — our social set is so different — and she had some prior commitments, so I am here on my own." He gave the room an appraising look. "So, my cousin, here, was the original owner of this house. How about a grand tour?"

"I — Captain Daniel Gregg was the builder and original owner of this house!" Daniel started, and outside there was a hint of thunder.

"Ah, why don't you follow me?" Carolyn interrupted, almost unwillingly, and the other members of the family, joined the tour.

XXX

As the crew came back into the parlor Reginald Nyland shook his head. "Nice house; and prime real estate. You were an idiot to let it go Cuz."

"I — I don't think so," Claymore protested. "Mrs. Mu — Miles paid rent to me for fifteen years before I finally sold it to the Dashire foundation, and they, in turn, gave it to Daniel and Carolyn as a wedding gift. She and Ca — Daniel belong here much more than I ever could. In fact, I daresay I never would have felt as comfortable here as Carolyn and her family have. They made it a home. I just owned it for a while."

"You are becoming whimsical in your advanced years. Think of what a wonderful site this would have been for a hotel; Ocean view, clean fresh air, the seagulls flying about. But as usual, you let opportunity slip through your fingers."

"I'd imagine another hotel would lose money in Schooner Bay; we do not get a lot of tourism," Daniel argued mildly.

Carolyn's snort of laughter was quickly covered with a cough. _Who could forget those flying pies?_ _Certainly not Claymore, who had been clobbered with them!_

"We wouldn't want to sully the charms of the town by having it become a tourist trap," Daniel added, darkly.

"Too bad; this little backwater could be a real moneymaker; People are into old-fashioned, these days. Why, you could even earn enough to consider getting a good quality toupee. Cuz. With a bit of hair, the ladies might notice your more."

"You can't bank on fads," Lynne countered, trying to change the subject from Claymore's shiny pate.

"Now THAT is true, dear lady," Reggie gave the doctor a charming smile. "Do forgive me if I spoke out of turn."

"Of course, it is the Christian thing to do," Daniel replied with a smile that failed to reach his eyes.

"Ah, yes, quite, of course." Reggie turned to Claymore, who was appearing somewhere between irritated, uncomfortable and embarrassed. "Cousin, what say you take me back to town, so I can get settled, and then you can buy me a real Maine lobster dinner?"

Though not delighted at the idea of shelling out the bucks, Claymore nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good." He glanced toward Daniel, Carolyn and crew. Would you care to join us?"

Daniel and the others shook their heads. "I'm afraid we have other obligations."

"Just for coffee? At about eight-thirty?" Claymore gave them a puppy dog look.

"We'll — try," Carolyn demurred.

"Fantastic!" Claymore shook his 'uncle's' hand, followed by Sean and Dashire's, and then gave a kiss on the cheek to Lynne, Molly and Carolyn. "We'll see you tonight, then. Now we don't want to overstay our welcome, so Reg, let's get you set up at the hotel." He waved a hand as the two started toward the foyer. "Good-bye all! Thank you for the hospitality!"

As they went down the walk, Carolyn, who was standing at the door, overheard Claymore remark, "You know, Reg, a guy only is given so much testosterone, and mine just didn't go to my head." A moment later, they were in the car and rattling down the road.

"What a piece of work," Lynne snorted.

"I heartily agree, luv," Dash nodded.

"I can't believe Clay has gone to so much trouble to impress that braggart," Sean added.

"He's no gentleman," Molly put in.

"He's nothing but a stuffed shirt that needs deflating, badly," the Captain agreed.

"So was Blair," Sean pointed out, with a twinkle in his eye. "Do you suppose we could do it again?"

"I can scare anyone if I purpose to do so," the Captain averred.

"This know-it-all would take more than scaring," Dash frowned. "But we need to do something, or he will undo all our hard work with Claymore, who, may I say, handled himself brilliantly. Wasn't sure he had it in him. Haven't seen this kind of spirit since he came and got me to get you home, Carolyn."

She nodded. "At least we know he'll leave soon, which we didn't really, with Blair."

One elegant brow lifted and a twinkle appeared in Daniel's eyes. "My dear, perhaps YOU did not, but I was confident the bounder would make a prompt exodus from my ship."

"But, did you know it would be such a very amusing and interesting exit?" Tristan's voice called from the ceiling as he drifted toward the floor. "Sorry to pop over uninvited, but my curiosity was extremely vexing and I simply could not wait to hear what Cousin Itt was like."

"Cousin Itt?" Molly blinked. "Lad, I do not follow you, though I'm inclined to agree with the name on principle."

For a moment, everyone did a double-take; Molly so seldom said anything negative.

_"Addam's Family,"_ Tristan explained. "Cousin Itt was a — well — overgrown dust mop with a squeak instead of a voice. The entire family was somewhat — strange, you see, so Itt was normal for them." He trailed off uncertainly. "I did think that a time or two; were I still mortal, it would be handy to have Thing around, no pun intended, of course. Thing was a hand, mostly in a box, that helped out. You might say the original helping hand?"

"I've seen the show, Tris, and you just insulted Cousin Itt," Lynne offered him a lifeline with a half smile.

"That bad? May we spook him then?" Tristan asked, turning to the Captain. "It's been ages since we ran anyone out of town on a rail, as it were."

Daniel shook his head. "As much as I would like to say "yes," I fear my answer must be "no"."

"Why ever not?" Sean asked, "He's—"

"The best definition of obnoxious and disliked? I agree, but he is Claymore's cousin, and really his guest and I fear it isn't our place, unless he asks us to. All we can do is grin and bear it, and, support, yes, support Claymore as much as we can. The only thing I don't understand about all this is why my so-called nephew WANTS to impress this boorish know-it-all of a relative."

"I do." Lynne sighed.

"Me too," Carolyn nodded.

"Tell us then," Dash frowned.

Lynne shrugged. "Maybe women notice this kind of thing more than men do, but in my case, it was someone I was in residency with."

"A man?" Dash bristled.

"No, another woman. She just — always seemed to be one-up on everyone. She was on close terms with her supervisors, she knew things weeks before anyone else, got invited to events that the rest of the residents didn't get invited to—"

"—And let me continue," Carolyn cut in. "She got the best assignments, took more vacation days, made her own schedule, and whenever she was around, the office or area had more people dropping in and out — she was a man-magnet?"

"Exactly — even though she was happily married," Lynne nodded. "She got away with stuff that anyone else would need two weeks written notice to do—"

"Yet at the same time, she wasn't a hussy or anything," Carolyn continued. "She just had a way of making you inferior, by simply BEING."

"Even though I know all that means she's actually insecure," Lynne mused, "I can't help my reaction."

"I never figured out if Stephanie, in my case, was insecure or not," Carolyn frowned. "Eventually I moved on, and happily, I never ran into anyone exactly like her again." She smiled. "What's funny, though is I did run across someone else from that same job, someone actually a step or two higher in the ranks that Stephanie was, and she told me Stephanie made her feel the same way — that we weren't cool enough to be part of her set. So high-schoolish, but it happens. I think that is what Claymore is feeling. That just once in his life he wants to be better or at least equal to the Stephanies — or Reggies of the world."

The Captain shook his head and thunder rolled.

"My thoughts precisely," Dash agreed.

"Does that mean we ARE joining them for coffee and/or dessert tonight?"

"I prefer not to endure that cretin," Daniel frowned.

"But we should support Claymore," Molly said. "After meeting Reggie, Claymore's faults are more like a splinter in the eye, where Reggie's are a log — or a two-by-four."

"And I don't think he is insecure, either," Lynne added. "He seems to think he is king of the hill and Claymore is a—"

"—Whimpering, brittle-boned squid?" Daniel continued. "I haven't called him that in years. "I always knew he could do better. And I was right, he can."

"Wounds linger," Carolyn simply, gently pointed out.

"Aye, love," Daniel nodded. "I remember Horatio Figg's comments about me; written down for all to see in his journals, and a couple of remarks I made to Elroy certainly weren't 

forgotten! Very well, my dear; dessert and coffee tonight with Claymore and that cousin of his."

"Surely your captain couldn't have figured on people reading his journal a century later?" Molly asked. "Aren't journals like diaries, not for most people to see, other than yourself?"

"Not Figg," the Captain growled. "I remember him saying once he planned on writing his Memoirs. And even if he hadn't, the words were there for anyone to read after his death. Sometimes I get as angry at him as I was at Lucias Finely for publishing that my death was a suicide."

Silence fell, broken when the doctor said, "Well, since I can't just magic up a new look, I at least, though I'd kind of like to take my husband along, need to go see to that, if we've got an appointment tonight."

"You don't have to get all fancy for HIM," Dash fussed. "Blue jeans, a fresh blouse — maybe a jacket of some kind. That would be fine."

"Sounds about right to me, too," Daniel nodded his head in Carolyn's direction.

Lynne shrugged. "I'm not doing it for him, but for me, so he won't have any way to make me feel slouchy."

"Me either," Carolyn agreed. "I don't want to impress Reginald one way or the other, but we are going to Norrie's, and I don't like walking in looking like I've been painting the tool shed, or something."

"I rather LIKE seeing my wife in trousers, now—" Daniel said, giving Carolyn a look that made her blush.

"Aye," Sean agreed. "Molly looks wonderful after she has just come in from gardenin', too."

"You look charming no matter what you wear, dearest lady," Dash added.

"You all do," Tris nodded, not to be left out.

"I love being surrounded by charming and gallant men," Carolyn sighed, taking Daniel's hand.

"Who are blinded by love," Molly added.

"That helps!" Lynne grinned.

"But it doesn't hurt that they are all magnificent," Carolyn smiled, her eyes adding tacitly that some were more so than others.

Daniel cleared his throat, but his blue gaze lingered on his wife's lovely face. Finally he spoke. "Well, if we are finished for now, I suggest we all try to get a little work done the rest of the day. Shall we meet at Norrie's around eight-thirty then?"

"Excellent. Maybe we can meet outside and go in together? Attack _en masse—"_

"May I come?" Tris asked, "I want to meet this fellow." Almost as an afterthought, he held up his right hand to add, "Though I may have given reason to suspect I'm up to no good and merely wish to antagonize the bloke, I promise to be — NICE. Unless it gets time not to be, but that's better done out of the sight of witnesses."

Carolyn just had to shake her head as Daniel agreed with the younger man.


	11. WHISPERS AND RUMORS

**11 – WHISPERS AND RUMORS**

"Well, I want to hear all about Cousin Reggie," Martha announced as she placed a basket of Morning Glory with bran muffins on the table in front of her employers.

"As soon as you join us," Carolyn promised as she brought the coffee over and took her seat.

Once Jon had brought his juice over and everyone was settled, Daniel began to recap the prior afternoon and evening.

"To say Reginald is obnoxious and disliked is to understate things severely," the seaman began, recalling the earlier observation. "I suppose if one has not been warned about what sort of person he is and if one lacks the sort of vision ghosts have, his oily charm might have some appeal. However, subsequent to spending an afternoon and evening in his company, I can say with confidence that I would far rather spend that time with Blair Thompson or even Ralph Muir than Reginald Nyland."

"I second that," Carolyn agreed. "Blair did have a few good points. Not enough to entice me to marry him, but he was just shallow. He was never mean."

"True," the Captain agreed reluctantly, hating to grant his former rival that much.

"Reggie did 'compliment' Claymore once or twice, but they were all those left-handed kind," Carolyn picked up. "You know; the sort that has a barb subtly or less than subtly tied to it."

"I hate those," Martha shook her head. "Rather have an outright insult than one of those sly things."

"And how is Claymore handling his cousin?" Martha asked. "I was wondering last night how things were going. Is he holding it together?"

"He seems to be," Daniel answered. "He is keeping calm; what is it you say, Jon?"

"Not losing it?" the boy answered. "That's cool if he can do that. Mr. Nyland sounds like a real creep."

"So, are you going to let Tris chase him off, like he did Blair Thompson?" Martha asked.

"No. As I was telling Dash, Tris, Sean, and assorted other family last night, it is not our place, unless perhaps Claymore requests us to."

"Or Ed could, maybe," Martha interjected. "He is the constable."

"Nyland isn't doing anything against the law; just being a boor," Carolyn sighed.

"And if that were illegal, all prisons would be full," Daniel added.

"No, only partly full; you would have to outlaw stupidity and deliberate meanness to fill them," Carolyn added.

"So what are Claymore and Reggie doing today, before the dance?" Martha asked. "Somehow I don't see him being able to entertain him, as he did Elroy, when he was in town. You know, showing him how he does his books and cleaning an empty summer cottage."

"I believe Claymore mentioned something about them taking a general tour of the town; you know, stop in at Tuttle's antiques, go down by the wharf, and visit the stables; though I can't imagine Claymore on a horse, and then go to Castine and visit the Maritime museum. You know, touristy stuff," Jon said.

"So he can insult everyone in Schooner Bay," Martha rolled her eyes.

"Yeah," Jon nodded, "But, you never know. I'm not sure Jane Shoemaker or Darlene Harpooniker will put up with him, and Mrs. Coburn, I mean, Ms. Sharpe might just scare him away."

"If so, we'll have to be — nice to her," Daniel frowned, not sure which was the lesser evil.

"Maybe Ms. Sharpe will sweep him off his feet? No — He's married."

"You don't suppose he wants to MOVE here, do you?" Martha asked, "Set up a business or something?"

"Perish the thought," Daniel grimly stated for all concerned.

"If he starts making noises like that," Carolyn frowned, "You CAN haunt him — do a combination of what you did to Blair the second time, and what you did to Ryan McNally and Sean Callahan the Fourth."

"And Paul Wilkie, to boot," Martha laughed. "Both times."

"Aunt Bats," Jon made a face.

"Don't even THINK about that harpy!" Daniel growled, and under the table, Dakota barked her approval, irritating the cats that were curled up with her.

"We're borrowing trouble," Martha said calmly. "We should be thinking about the rest of our day and the cotillion tonight!"

"I've dreamt of that for fifteen years," Carolyn's face softened.

"You'll have your waltz, my darling," Daniel answered huskily.

"Margaret Coburn Sharpe better not do anything to spoil it, either," Carolyn answered back, with a smile.

"Why would she?" their son frowned.

"I'll tell you some day — when you're older," Carolyn smiled.

"Mom, I'll be twenty-one in November!"

"Then, you can figure it out without elucidation," Daniel said.

"Uh, right," the young man shrugged. Sometimes he still didn't have a clue as to what his mother and step-father were thinking. "Well, Kyle and Adam and I are going bowling today. I mean, if you don't need me for anything."

"Have a good time," Carolyn said to give her blessing.

"Thanks! I should be back around — four? Four-thirty? To shower and shave and stuff, right?" His parents nodded. "Then, may I be excused please?" he asked, bolting the last of his muffin.

"Yes," Carolyn half sighed.

"Thanks, Mom." He kissed her on the cheek and was gone.

"Something wrong, Mrs. Gregg?" Martha asked, as one eyebrow went up.

"No," she looked puzzled.

"Oh. You sort of sighed there for a second, and I wondered if anything else was wrong, other than Mr. Nyland."

"I'll miss Jon when he goes back to college soon."

"Aye," Daniel nodded. "It has been good to have him home for the summer. But college seems to steady him. Maybe by the time he graduates, he will have a fixed career in mind. He doesn't seem so interested in working on a cruise ship anymore."

"Well, the Love Boat is hardly a tall ship," Martha noted.

"True, more a floating city, really. No spirit."

"Unless one of you guys goes along to haunt the ship," the older woman jibed.

"Not likely," Daniel scoffed. "I am quite happy here at Gull Cottage. I'd love to see it though. Maybe if it comes to that, it could be arranged. But as I said, Jon hasn't talked about it lately; not so much as a mention of a ship he would like to find a position on. I won't say "crew," because it's not the same thing at all."

"Maybe we can have another honeymoon, some time," Carolyn mused.

"Now THAT would be marvelous," Daniel gave his lady a special look.

"If you two want to be alone, just say so," Martha said.

"Later," Daniel winked, at which point his lady blushed furiously.

XXX

By the middle of the morning, Claymore knew that he was glad he'd never decided on tour guide as a career. At least, judging from the way his temporary stint as one was going, it was not his vocation. Clearly, no matter where he took Reggie, the other man was bored out of his skull. He wished that someone else was with them. Sean or Molly, with their marvelous Irish lilts, or the Captain's or Fontenot's profound voices, or Tristan's humor could make even the most 'provincial' places seem intriguing surely! As they entered the museum, the cousins almost ran into Bree as she was coming out with a dolly loaded with various things to help lend atmosphere to the cotillion.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you coming in," the young woman apologized ruefully. "My mind's going in fifty directions, perhaps more, but I stopped counting." Her eyes strayed to Reggie and a brow lifted questioningly.

"No problem," Claymore said hastily.

"None at all," Reggie added in an oily tone. "In fact, it is our—" and the way he said "our" made it clear he meant Claymore's, "—fault. "As gentlemen, we ought to be helping you with your—" He gestured vaguely, not at all sure what she was up to, or caring.

"I was just about to offer," Claymore frowned.

"As you were just about to make introductions, I'm sure," Reggie countered; his tone just shy of sniping outright.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I was," Claymore sniffed. "Bree Montgomery, this is Reginald Nyland, my cousin I told you about."

"I'd shake your hand, but don't want to lose my grip on this," Bree told Reggie. "Don't dare damage any of these artifacts after Mr. Emerson was kind enough to loan them to me to help create atmosphere tonight." Very pointedly, she added, "I'll thank you, Claymore, and the entire town council, for authorizing the use."

"Claymore could hold onto your burden," Reggie volunteered his cousin. Clearly, he would have liked to shake her hand, or inflict a kiss on it.

"It's balanced just right," Bree refused as politely as she could. "Letting it go for a second would be a mistake."

"My loss, my dear," Reggie smiled. "Perhaps there will be another time, yes? Perhaps you will save me a dance tonight?"

"Uh—" Bree paused. Not if she could help it. "—Yes, of course. Right." She gave Claymore a quick look of sympathy. "So, I will be seeing you two—" She stopped at saying the word 'gentlemen' in reference to Mr. Nyland. "—you two at the cotillion?"

"All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't keep me away," Reggie answered, giving the young woman a quick look up and down. "I can't wait to see your dress for the dance, my dear."

"Nothing fancy, I assure you," Bree answered shortly. "It's a working evening for me. Listen, I have to run. I'll see you tonight, Claymore. Save me a dance, won't you? Uh — I'll see you, too, Mr. Nyland." A moment later she was off.

"Lovely girl. You say she's related to his Lordship?" Reggie asked.

"Yeah his gr — uh great niece, I think," Clay answered vaguely.

"He doesn't seem that old," Nyland frowned.

"Maybe it's just niece. I don't know. She's family, and she's a nice girl, very bright. Bree runs Charles Dashire's foundation like she has been doing it her whole life. That's enough for me."

Reggie nodded, not that interested in Claymore's opinion. "So what else do you have planned to amuse me today?" he went on. "It would appear we have seen everything there is to see, here. I suppose we could take in a movie. I notice your theater only plays last year's releases."

"Sure, if you like," Claymore agreed, even though it was more than he had planned on spending that day. "Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to see the Maritime Museum in Castine? It's famous around these parts. You could see a movie anywhere. And as you said, they are last year's, nothing new and interesting there."

"More dusty fish stuff?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Museums may be fine for you, but they really aren't my thing, old boy, at least not all this nautical fare. I prefer the fine arts, Michelangelo, Monet, Van Gogh, But if you must—"

"I was thinking of what YOU might like," Clay huffed.

"No don't ruffle your feathers, Cuz! Really, I'd just as soon stay here and watch a movie or something. I mean, after all we will out until all hours tonight. You ARE going this cotillion thing, aren't you? Even without a date? I mean, you have a good suit and all that?"

"Of course I do! I've got lots of fine clothes." _**Now,**_ he added, silently to himself.

"Of course, I'm sure, at least for 1981," Reggie sniffed. "Don't worry about it, styles haven't changed much."

"I have it on good authority—" Claymore clenched his fists inside his jacket pockets, thinking of the coaching he had received from Dash, and the ladies of the crew, "That I am very much in style." How he DID wish that Paige had been able to go with him to the dance! She had been willing, but the ghosts had an engagement to perform _Connecticut Yankee_ IN Connecticut, and she couldn't get out of it. "Now then, why don't we go over to the diner, grab a cup of coffee? The movie won't start for another half an hour or so, and there won't be much of a line at the matinee. _My Favorite Year_ is playing."

"Have they heard of decaf? I know I'd be pushing my luck to want Perrier."

Claymore rolled his eyes. "Actually, they have both. It's just the movie theater that runs a little behind, most of the time. So shall we go?"

"Lead on."

XXX

They had been seated just long enough to get coffee for Claymore and Perrier for Reggie, when Norrie Coolidge opened the door of the diner and looked around. Spying the two men in a corner booth, he made a beeline in Claymore's direction.

"Norrie, I'm really not being disloyal. Since we aren't having anything but a drink, the diner is closer to the movie—" Claymore began to justify himself.

"Who's being disloyal?" Norrie blinked. "Forgetful, Claymore, but not disloyal."

Now it was Claymore's turn to look startled. "Forgetful? Forgetful about what?"

"We had an appointment, today! A half-hour ago! I have a bunch of papers that need to be notarized, and I would really just as soon you watch me sign them. And you have to read them all first. You told me that, years ago."

For a moment, Claymore hesitated and then nodded. "I got distracted, my cousin's here, and there's the dance—" He glanced at his watch. "I don't want to miss the start of the movie_,_ but if we hurry, I can manage." He frowned. "I just forgot about you, Norrie. I apologize." He turned back to his cousin. "Will you be all right here for about ten, fifteen minutes, Reggie? Maybe twenty? I did promise Norrie, and as they say, a notary's work is never done."

"I'd heard a different version, but go ahead. I'm fine, "Reggie dismissed them.

"Well, thanks, fella," Norrie drawled. "And you, too, Claymore. We could do it here, I imagine."

"No-no-no, that's quite all right," Claymore said quickly. "My office is just across the street, and my notary seal is over there anyway."

A moment later the two men had left, and Reggie was alone in the quiet diner. But not for long, for a couple of minutes after the departure of his relative, a fiftyish looking woman opened the door of the diner with a bang, and she and two others made their way to the booth next to him and sat down in a huff.

"I don't know why Miss Montgomery's behavior shocked you, Penelope," a nasal voice bit out. "Her type of woman — well — you know how THEY are."

"She always seemed rather — sweet, in an odd sort of way," a breathy, vague voice fretted.

"Margaret, she LIVED with those SIX actors," the older woman snapped. "Of course she picked up a few — shall we say — _**tricks**_ of the trade." There was a most unladylike snort, followed by, "You know, most of them were old enough to be at least her father, OR grandfather!"

"Paul, Jim, and Jason were young and good looking," the youngest whined. "That's three, that's half."

"But the other three were not, and there might have been more, somewhere else. You just never know." There was a pause, then the sharp voice continued, "I bet she's after Mr. King, too. He is very rich, after all. She might toy with young Mr. Matthews, but you can bet she's got her eyes on bigger fish."

"Do you think Mr. Dashire is really her uncle?" the breathy voiced woman asked. "But, surely he wouldn't cheat on the doctor!"

"There is a slight resemblance between them, so she might be his relative. I don't think Dr. Avery, or Dashire, whatever it is she calls herself, would put up with him stepping out. She's hard as nails, that one; no bedside manner at all."

"Blackie shouldn't be dating her, Bree, I mean," the youngest said in a pouty voice. "That kind of woman is not a pastor's wife in the making."

"This is true, and if he persists, we might need to contact the Presbytery."

"But, surely—" the breathy voice said, again, "The Reverend can't be told who to date, or not date, can he? I mean, he IS single, and we don't know for SURE that Bree Montgomery has any skeletons in her closet — I mean, if you LIKE Reverend Blackwood, Penny, it is HER that needs to be told what is what, not Blackie."

"I'm telling you, I saw her clinging to Tristan Matthews like she owned him, right there in the middle of the shopping mall," Penny whined again. "She shouldn't be allowed to parade herself in front of two guys at the same time, especially when I knew them BOTH before she did."

"I think she is trying to have her cake and eat it, too," the sharp voice sneered, "See the respectable Reverend by day and swing with Mr. Matthews by night, and heaven-knows-what in between. Her actors have visited a time or two, also. Who knows what goes on in that rented cottage of hers? She could be having orgies for all we know!"

Twins gasps of horror reached his ears.

"But you can't PROVE that, can you, Jane?" the breathy voice asked.

"No, but I have my suspicions. Gull Cottage has been attracting the wrong sort for years! Remember that story Carolyn Muir, I mean, Miles wrote? _Maiden Voyage?"_

"Now you KNOW her husband, Daniel Miles, admitted he wrote it," the breathy voice answered.

"OR claimed to! We don't know if he was just being chivalrous."

"I don't care about _Maiden Voyage,"_ came the whiny voice again, "I care about this chit Englishwoman charming Blackie away from me when she has seven guys — maybe more, dangling from her string already!" She sniffed. "I bet she would drop them all if some other suave type gave her the time of day."

"If it was a Rolex," the sharp voiced one sniped.

"Wish they would, then," the youngest grumbled, "Someone who could impress her with his — his suaveness, and looks, and people he knows. Older guy, too — I know she digs older men. Like the actors. Then she could run off with him — or at least Blackie would see what kind of a hussy he has taken up with."

Reggie raised an eyebrow. _So the English lass likes to swing, does she?_

"Give her enough rope, she'll hang herself," Jane Shoemaker clucked. "There's the cotillion tonight. Maybe Reverend Blackwood will catch her flirting with Tristan."

"Maybe some other man will catch her eye," Margaret Coburn put in.

"Both COULD happen with that one."

"Maybe, but I don't want Candy Muir's rejects, even if he is cute."

"No one said you had to take him."

"Bree Montgomery is the one who will go with every man in town. She's the one I'm mad at. I just wish everyone else could see it."

"I'm sure they will. Come. We need to go."

A minute later the three women had left the money for their check on the table and were out the door.

Reggie rubbed his chin. _That__ girl DID say she would save me a dance, didn't she? Could be she was insinuating more than I originally supposed? Do I dare hope? _He rubbed his hands together. _You've still got it, Reggie Boy! And won't my dear cousin be fit to be tied? I wonder how rich her uncle, Lord Dashire REALLY is?_

Before he could think further, Claymore returned.

"Ready for the movie?" Claymore asked, "Sorry to be so long."

Reggie shrugged, a glint coming to his cold blue eyes. "Quite all right, cousin. Sometimes you can learn a great deal, just by surveying the passing scene."

Looking confused, Claymore gulped the last of his now cold coffee and said, "Well, come on."


	12. THE COTILLION

**12 – THE COTILLION**

Carolyn's breath caught as she beheld her husband waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. In his dress uniform, he created a picture so stunning that she did not have words to describe it. What's more, the love and open admiration in his eyes told her that Daniel had an opinion of her that was at least as high as hers of him.

"I'm going to be the envy of every woman at the dance tonight. You look even better than you did in my dream!" she exclaimed.

"If so, it is only because you have fulfilled every dream I ever had," he smiled, taking her hand. "Yet, it is sorely tempting to skip the dance, at least, the public one."

As he drew her into an embrace, Carolyn would have gladly agreed, but her conscience insisted on saying, "We can't let Bree down."

"Or Dash," the Captain agreed. "Besides, I have long desired to take you to a cotillion, and I do promise, that even if Margaret has a bout of Ague and faints directly in front of me, I will not leave you in the middle of a dance, much less a kiss." He snorted at the thought of abandoning Carolyn to see to that annoying woman. "If such a thing happens, it's Lynne's concern, not mine."

"Or maybe Bree's" Carolyn sighed. "She's in charge. "We'll hope for the best."

"Excellent plan."

"Tonight should be fabulous, really," Carolyn enthused. "I think everyone in town is going to be there." She frowned slightly. "I even heard Jane Shoemaker is coming, though why, I can't imagine. I don't think I can ever remember her attending a dance."

"But, since it is the event of Schooner Bay's rather limited social season, she would not want to NOT attend."

Carolyn rolled her eyes. "You have a point. I just hope she can stay pleasant for the evening."

"We will talk to Blackie; he is in that department, miracles, you know."

"Smart-aleck."

"Shall we be off?"

"I think we ought to wait for Jonathan, don't you?"

Daniel shook his head. "Of course. Pardon, my love, I was too dazzled by your beauty to think clearly, for a moment. Where is he?"

"Struggling with his tie. And we will have to wait. He won't ask for help."

"He wouldn't take it well. Daniel stroked his smooth face. "I do wish I was wearing my beard tonight, however. I don't suppose I could? If you remember, Claymore wore a faux beard to the Centennial Ball, back in 1969."

"I'd love it, but wouldn't you look too much like yourself?"

He shrugged. "Maybe, but we have been married for three years now, and 'Daniel Miles' is well established here. Besides, Devon will be there tonight looking like ME, so Why couldn't I look like Daniel Gregg? I mean, the real me? I could make my beard a shade or two lighter — or darker, or redder, perhaps?"

"You know, I AM tempted. It would be the real you I _almost_ got to kiss in my dream."

"Temptation is such a difficult thing to resist."

"It is indeed. I suppose we could," Carolyn considered. "What's the worse that could happen? If people start making too many comments, you could morph it off again, and say something about removing it because it was itching, or something." She stroked his face, and her Captain's beard appeared, feeling soft and warm under her fingertips.

"I just hope Claymore does not faint at the sight," he half-teased.

"He won't," she grinned. "You've been giving him lessons in suave and cool, remember? And you have enjoyed it, too, at least a little bit."

"Perhaps."

They both turned to see Jonathan coming down the stairs, dressed in a dark blue suit. "Blasted tie!" he moaned. "Why couldn't Bree have hosted a fifties night, instead?"

"They wore ties then, too," his mother smiled.

"Not at sock hops and dances," Jon argued, "Blue jeans and T-Shirts and poodle skirts."

"At proms they did," Carolyn shot back.

"Oh. Well, I forgot about that. Why do ties have to choke you, Captain?"

"Equality, lad. Women suffer hose and so on for us."

Carolyn laughed. "Thank you, Daniel, for noticing. Very true! That was—"

"My dear wife, you aren't going to say "sweet," are you?"

"No, enlightened."

"Having lived on a ship full of women, I have learned a bit." Once upon a time, he might have said "revenge" in lieu of his present answer.

"You CERTAINLY have!"

"Are we ready to go?" Jonathan interrupted. "We might as well. You did say there will be stuff to eat there, along with dancing?"

"Yes."

"Then we ought, then. But you need to lose your beard, Captain Dad."

"No, tonight, it's part of my regalia, and though it is real, to everyone else, it will be false," he informed the boy.

"Wow! Way, cool!" Jon exclaimed, "Then, let's get moving!"

Yes, let's," the couple echoed, and they headed toward the door.

XXX

As they entered the transformed dance hall, Carolyn's eyes grew wide and the Captain commented, "It is not exactly as I — er, rather, there is a bit lacking in total authenticity, but on the whole, Bree has done quite well indeed." His eyes swept the room as he nodded, "Yes, quite well indeed."

"Thank you, Captain," the lady referred to beamed as she came over to greet them. "I wasn't aiming for one-hundred percent; I wanted to appeal to as many people as possible, so I had to concede to modernity, a bit."

"And, I do not believe people will have trouble distinguishing us tonight, 'Cousin'," a voice very like Daniel's own remarked as Devon Miles strode over, right hand outstretched. "Is that the reason for the beard? He went on, quietly.

"Partly," the Captain allowed, as he took Devon Miles' hand and shook it, "Though, since you are in a suit and I in uniform, there are other ways to tell us apart."

"Though there are worse people to be mistaken for, I am relieved," Devon grinned.

"Did Michael or Bonnie come with you, Devon?" Carolyn asked.

"And did you drive KITT?" Jonathan added eagerly.

"No, to all, I'm afraid."

"Blast!" Jon sighed.

"Agreed," Bree nodded. "Jon's told me about that car. Sound's almost as much fun to drive as my godfather John's Bentley."

"Michael is on assignment, so I had to fly."

"You'll stay at Gull Cottage," Daniel added. It was not a question.

"I did register at the Inn — and it's only for overnight."

"We can fix that, just like we did when you and Bonnie were here. Next time, just assume you will stay with us. And overnight just isn't long enough for a visit, Devon. Why don't you stay over tomorrow, too?"

"I would love to, but I have a commitment. I've heard of Southern hospitality, but it seems Maine is on par."

"For people we LIKE," Daniel frowned.

"That's an odd thing to say. I am not back on this crew's boor list?"

"Of course not. Not you. And that was only a misunderstanding, anyway."

"I'm glad. Hmm. In-law troubles?"

"No, I am blessed with wonderful and very understanding in-laws."

"What, then?"

"Long story," Carolyn kept her voice low, "but sufficed to say that we are much happier with you as an adopted 'cousin' than Claymore Gregg's real one."

"I see. I trust this person is on the maternal side. Surely the paternal side would have pleasanter branches on the tree."

"Aye," Daniel nodded. "I am sure you will meet him sometime tonight. "Trust me," he gave the Englishman a look. "Don't trust Reginald Nyland any further than you can throw him. He's—"

"—Oily," Carolyn filled in. "And it doesn't take being a — you know — to see it."

"I rather like to imagine I could throw him quite a ways," Devon frowned, causing Carolyn to wonder if there really wasn't a blood tie between the two men beside her. "I'm no weakling, but I take your meaning."

"Claymore should be here before too long," Jonathan put in. "Captain Dad has been giving him suave lessons so he will impress his cousin. He's doing well, too, especially considering Mr. Nyland, but I still don't know why he is trying so hard to do it. Not when his cousin's such a jerk." The boy looked around. "It would be like me caring what Danny Shoemaker thinks about me."

"Or Miss Hicklepickle," Tris contributed as he ambled over.

Bree rolled her eyes. "Do we have to talk about that family?"

"That's a new one, Tris," Carolyn grinned. "Speaking of which, are the Hassenhammers and the Shoemakers here yet? Bree said they bought tickets."

"I haven't seen them, but I usually try to avoid Penny," Tris answered.

"Smart boy," Daniel chuckled.

"I'd LIKE to," Bree gave a heartfelt sigh.

"Where's Blackie?" Carolyn remembered the young Reverend suddenly.

"Running late, because Barnaby is," Bree replied.

"Sounds par for the course," Carolyn smiled. "I would like to know if Claymore has landed yet. He was really nervous about tonight."

"He shouldn't be; actually he has been coping better — MUCH better than I thought he would, actually, once I met his cousin."

"I've been rehearsing, so you are the only people I've seen," Tris shrugged.

"Rehearsing?" Devon's eyebrow went up.

"I'm providing the music."

"Marvelous!" Devon rubbed his hands together, "And the O'Caseys, as well?"

"Yes, but we have it arranged that they will be able to dance a little, anyway."

"I see; looking forward to it. And have all you talented people done any work on that record album yet?"

"A bit, between incidents and events."

"Splendid. I look forward to hearing exactly what, tomorrow, sometime."

Bree Montgomery looked around. "I believe I see Claymore coming in with that cousin of his."

"So I will meet the blighter," Devon pronounced grimly.

"It would appear so," his 'cousin' agreed.

As the two men approached, Claymore could not help but let out a tiny squeak when he saw the Captain looking like Daniel Gregg, or at least, more like the famous ghost than was normal in public. Fortunately, the sight of two men who could almost be twins had startled Reggie enough that he did not catch the faux-pas. Reggie's mask of self-assurance slipped as his eyes flitted from one 'Miles' to the other and then back again.

"Claymore is not the only one with cousins in town," Tristan supplied, enjoying the scene immensely.

"Allow me to introduce Devon Miles, my cousin," Daniel chimed in, the smug smile on his face that always accompanied such moments as this, when he could pull a fast one on a mortal.

"You look so much alike!"

"Yes, and that once caused a bit of a stir, but fortunately, Cousin Daniel did not mind wearing a false beard for the evening so the locals can tell us apart this time," Devon smirked. Tweaking his ear, the one opposite of Daniel's favorite ear to tweak, he went on, "It's also a tribute to the great man who built his present home. Now, I can truly see the resemblance he, and I suppose I as well, bear Captain Gregg. However, I do not believe we are related to you, Mr. —?"

"Nyland, Reginald Nyland," the interloper replied.

"I thought not," Devon answered, giving the man a sneer that was almost equal to one of Daniel's own, "And how kind of your cousin to sponsor your entry to such an occasion as this."

"I was — what?" Reggie gaped.

"This isn't just any dance, you know. It's a fund-raiser for the Dashire Foundation. The ticket price wasn't exactly the cost of a Friday night sock hop."

"Claymore purchased your ticket; he sponsored your entrance," Carolyn added.

"Of course, I — ah — will also make a donation, naturally."

"I'm certain Miss Montgomery or Lord Dashire will be happy to collect it later," Daniel said smugly. Reggie's thin smile was not happy. "Now, if you will excuse us," Daniel continued, "I would like to dance with my beautiful wife."

"And Miss Grover has promised to take a turn on the floor with me," Devon put in.

"Ta," Tris added.

"Certainly."

The crew moved off and Reggie turned to his cousin. "Stuffy lot, that group. I don't know you can stand them, Cuz."

"Daniel G — Miles and his crew are the closest thing to local family I have, and I owe them a lot, Reg," Claymore answered somberly. "They supported me after my heart incident, and have always included me in their lives." _Even if all of them really didn't want to, sometimes,_ he added silently. "Now, why don't you relax and eat something?" He glanced about the room. "Ah! Miss Applegate!" He waved toward a middle-aged red-head in a blue gown. "Would you care to trip the light?"

Startled, the former telephone operator, Millie Applegate nodded. "Fantastic!" she beamed.

Claymore blinked. _Why did a slight sense of déjà-vu hit him? _

As the two danced off, Bron and Sig looked on, unnoticed, from a few yards away, regarding first Claymore, who was waltzing, if not as perfectly as Daniel Gregg, quite acceptably, and then at the confused Reggie, who was still on the sidelines where his cousin had left him.

"You realize we will have to tell Daniel what Claymore just said," Sig said, thoughtfully.

"We will? I doubt he cares if Clay dances with Millie."

"No, Bron. I mean about Claymore defending Daniel, and calling the rest of us "family," without wanting or getting away with something. But first, might we take a twirl?"

"I thought you'd never ask me," she smiled. "Maybe even two twirls," she added, as he spun her onto the floor.

XXX

The hall began to fill as more people arrived.

Reggie Nyland stood by the refreshment table watching Claymore, with various women, and other couples dance around the large area and gradually the crowd overflowed out onto the large patio outside the building, where more food and refreshments were available.

Because the crowd was of mixed generations, the musicians had tried to mix both old-fashioned waltzes, gentle easy-listening melodies that Carolyn and Lynne had probably grown up with, and what might be termed 'soft rock,' much like Tim Siegert had, once upon a time, presented in Gull Cottage. As one of the latter-types played, something of the spell that had fallen over the Captain and his lady lifted slightly and they found themselves more able to look away from each other's eyes.

"The lad did well in arranging tonight's score," Daniel remarked with a smile.

"He's not the only one on the road to excellence," Carolyn returned, glancing around the room. "I can't help but notice that Claymore's dancing has improved over the years, and he's getting a lot of practice tonight!"

Following her gaze, Daniel nodded. "We did do our best to teach him." A mischievous twinkle lit his eyes. "Of course, when Tris pointed out he might have to pay for any damage he inflicted upon women's toes or shoes, he was motivated."

"Captain!" his wife scolded mildly. "He's not nearly as — okay, he's not quite as — as thrifty as he once was. I think that Scrooge dream you gave him Christmas, 1969 did him a lot of good, and it has stuck, to a degree at least."

"He has improved tremendously," Daniel smiled. "But I try not to mention it too often. I don't want him to get any ideas that he has no more room for growth. But the improvement he has made in the last three weeks IS admirable, and I will tell him before the night is over, or my name isn't Daniel Gregg."

"The single — and a few married women are enjoying his new abilities," Carolyn went on. "I think it was sweet of Clay to ask Millie first. She's shy, and stays buried in her book shop most of the time. After Claymore danced with her, George Jones and Harry Johnson did, too. She's been smiling to beat the band. Did you tell Claymore who to dance with?"

"I did NOT, my good woman. He figured it out all by himself."

"So would you say he has passed muster?"

"I believe he has, but the evening isn't over yet. I've been keeping a half an eye on that cousin of his, too. He hasn't made an effort to socialize with anyone. I don't know what his problem is, but it is not the same as Millie Applegate's."

"Oh?"

"I am referring to shyness. Yes. I can't explain it, exactly. He just seems to have this attitude of _'I am too good for this lot,' _and I don't like it."

"He gives me that impression every time I see him," Carolyn agreed.

"He isn't going to spoil the evening, for us, however," Daniel added, drawing his wife closer. "I've waited too long for it."

"So have I," Carolyn agreed, "Ever since my Ague dream." She glanced around. "I don't see Margaret Coburn, I mean Sharpe anywhere. Now that's a good sign."

"My darling, I told you, even if she should keel over, I will not go to her rescue; that's Lynne's and possibly Doctor Anderson's department."

"I'm holding you to that," Carolyn winked, as they continued to dance. "So when do I get my special waltz?"

"A little later in the evening, from what Tris told me," Daniel replied. "He said that one has taken some practicing, and he doesn't want to waste it, performing it too early."

Charles and Lynne Dashire were suddenly dancing close to the couple, looking blissfully happy together.

"Save me a dance, Carolyn?" Dash said, executing a fancy step.

"And me," Dave said, passing by with Jenny.

"And I want a turn or two, Captain… Uncle Dash," Jenny went on. "It seems like I haven't danced with you since you taught Candy and me."

"And I get to dance with all of the musketeers," Lynne added.

The song drew to an end and the couples moved toward the sidelines. "I don't know about you three, but I could use a drink of something," Carolyn said. "It has been a while since I danced this much in one evening!"

"Not since Adam and Jess's wedding," Lynne nodded, fanning herself.

"Would you like me to bring you some refreshment, my dear?" Daniel asked, and Dave and Charles followed suit.

"I am a little parched. Yes, please."

"Yes, thank you," Lynne and Jenny nodded.

As the men moved away, Carolyn glanced around the room, and spied Bree and Blackie dancing a little way away. Lynne and Jenny followed her glance for a moment and then Lynne turned to Carolyn.

"Far be it from me to push, but do you think we can consider those two a couple yet?" she asked. "I know I tell Charlie not to match-make, but I would love to see Blackie settle down."

"We didn't get to call you and Dash a couple until you turned up married," Jenny chuckled.

"Right. You were 'not dating,' and 'not a couple,' right up to New Year's Eve, when you eloped," Carolyn added.

"And you are never going to let us forget it, are you?" Lynne asked. "I know, but Blackie and Bree aren't denying anything, not from the way they look right now, but they aren't declaring anything either!"

"Personally, I think actions speak louder than words," Jenny smiled.

"I agree," Mrs. Gregg nodded. "Don't rush it, Lynne. I'm sure all will work out as it should."

"In other words, take my own advice."

"That would be it."

"Said with all the love in the world," Jenny added.

"Say what with what?" Charlie asked, as the men returned, juggling drinks and plates.

"That I can't push a romance if I won't let you do it."

"Romance? Who with? Clay and — Maria Post?" Dash scratched his head, seeing the aforementioned people waltz by. "She's married."

"Blackie and Bree," Carolyn clarified.

"You guys take the fun out of everything," Dash grumbled.

"Oh, not everything," Dave laughed softly.

"Dave!" Jenny scolded softly, "Behave!"

"But Dave IS right," Daniel said, with a wink.

"I'd tell you to behave, but I'll save my requests for miracles for something less urgent," Carolyn gave him a lopsided smile.

"My dear!" Daniel looked about the room. "Bree is working again, it would seem. "I see Blackie is chatting with Miss Grover now. Glad to see her out and about. But I hope Bree isn't going at it too hard."

Dash frowned. "Perhaps I could take over the hosting aspect, for a little while, anyway. She needs to have fun."

"Leave her be for a bit," Lynne advised. "After all, this is HER event, in a way, and even the most well-meaning offer of help might be taken as her thinking you think she can't handle things."

"Point taken," Dash nodded, "In a bit, then."

A few minutes later, seeing the trio of couples chatting, Blackie excused himself from Elvira Grover's side and made his way over to the family. "I just had the oddest conversation with Penelope a few minutes ago."

"Talking with her, what other kind could you have?" Daniel asked.

"This is true, but it exceeded her normal unusualness."

"I thought you were talking to Miss Grover?" Jenny frowned.

"Seeing her was my excuse to get away from the Hassler." The young pastor looked slightly ashamed to admit this, but only a bit. "Penny was hinting something about my "secret pain" and my "broken heart," and empathizing over people who "stab you in the back," and that she would be there to "help me pick up the pieces." I didn't understand a word of it."

"You have to have friends to be stabbed in the back, so how could she empathize over that when I can't think of one person that really likes her?" Lynne asked bluntly. "Also, who did that to you?"

"Beats me," Blackie frowned. "Unless I don't know this crew as well as I am SURE I do."

"The girl is not sane," Daniel concluded.

"I think she is sane," Carolyn maintained, "But for whatever reason so unhappy with herself she is convinced that everyone else should be as unhappy as she is, maybe?"

"Then she's sick," Lynne muttered.

"I feel sorry for her," Jenny whispered. "Nobody should be so miserable, or make others so."

Everyone nodded, and Jenny added, her voice even lower, "That doesn't mean she isn't a, you know, but we need to get off this subject. The walls may have ears. That was all she said, Blackie?" He nodded. "And your heart isn't broken, or anything?"

"My heart is in fine shape, thank you." For a moment the pastor glanced in Bree's direction to see her heading toward the back kitchen area with what looked like empty dishes.

"Aye," Dash grinned, and nodded.

"Addle-pated or ill in the head," Dave shook his head, glancing at Penny.

"Shh," Carolyn scolded gently. "Daniel, if you are finished snacking, I would love to dance with you again."

"My appetite for you in my arms always exceeds that for food."

Carolyn lowered her eyes in true Victorian fashion as Daniel took her in his arms, and the two danced away on a cloud.

"My lady?" Dave held out his arm to Jenny.

"Always," she nodded, and soon the couple had joined the others dancing.

"I hate to leave you alone, Blackie," Dash said, his arm linked with his wife's.

"You dance at a cotillion," Blackie grinned. "Bree seems to have disappeared. I think I will go find her. We can either dance, or I can help her do whatever she needs doing."

"Excellent!" Dash approved. "Blackie, my boy, I—"

"Shh, Charlie," Lynne laid a finger over his lips.

"What?"

"You know what," she whispered. "Now dance with me. That's our song, or hadn't you noticed?"

"It's about time!" Softly, he began to sing, albeit a touch off-key, _"Don't know much about history_—_"_

_"Don't know much about biology_—_" _Lynne continued softly.

"I could argue with that," he winked, _"But I do know that I love you."_

_"And I know that since I love you too_—_" _Lynne whispered, "What a wonderful world _it _— _is."_ she finished, and reached up and kissed him.

The couple was off a moment later, leaving Blackie alone. Seeing Penny, in the distance, eyeing the room with an air that would make Margaret Coburn-Sharpe proud, Blackie headed toward a side exit, determined to take the long way around, if necessary and find Bree. It took two to dance, after all! At least for the good dances it did!

XXX

Reginald Nyland stood at one end of the auditorium watching his cousin move about the floor, and/or converse with everyone in sight. _"When had he gotten so popular?_ _Claymore was _

_always something of a wallflower when we were growing up, _he thought. _Tonight he's a star attraction! And when did he learn to dance?_

His narrow eyes darted around the room, assessing and dismissing all potential dance partners. That Sharpe woman was pretty in a vapid way, but too avid to marry; same deal with that Penny girl. With his current troubles, he did not dare get involved with a woman with commitment on her mind, no matter how small the brain might be. Miss Grover had power, but Reggie instinctively did not want her sharp gaze to fix on him. Besides, she was ancient! She probably couldn't keep going for a whole dance anyway. The redhead Claymore had danced his first dance of the evening with seemed to be having a good time talking to a gentleman who was clearly enamored with her. Reggie rubbed his chin. _What a bore! _he thought to himself. _How much longer can this go on? __Maybe I can invent a good reason to get out of here and _— suddenly, his gaze settled on Bree Montgomery, who was headed toward the kitchen area with a small stack of plates.

A sly smile appeared on his face.


	13. CLAYMORE MAKES A STAND

**13 – CLAYMORE MAKES A STAND**

As Bree turned from depositing the plates on the counter, she found her exit blocked by Claymore's creep of a cousin.

"Er— if you're looking for something to eat, there's more food out on the tables," she said, though she could see from the look in his eyes that eating was not exactly what Reggie was thinking about.

"Oh, I'm not hungry. For food," he smirked. "I trust you — understand?" He stepped nearer, and much too close for comfort.

Thoughts raced through Bree's head as fast as Siegfried could talk when he got upset. Blast it! She did not want to make a scene and ruin this so very important night, disgracing herself; proving that all the town twits' gossip was valid and she was the sort of woman who attracted such things, disappointing her grandfather, or any of the other associated disasters that would be incurred from it.

Maybe there was something in all that Aunt Emma and Uncle John had taught her about self-defense? No — every stratagem she could think of would either make a hash of her beautiful dress, was not feasible in heels, or would possibly be lethal to Reggie. Granted, he was proving himself to be scum, but was being something that ranked lower than pond sludge-worthy of a serious injury or death? Besides, he was not worth jail time or causing Mr. Peavey the headache of trying to figure out how to keep her from going to jail. It had also been mentioned that Adam really did not care for handling murder cases.

In the fractions of seconds that it took for this myriad of haphazard images and ideas to shoot through the English woman's confounded psyche, Reggie had the opportunity to edge closer, effectively trapping her in a corner.

"I've heard what kind of a girl you really are," he hissed, moving still nearer. "I've have my eye on you ever since I met you! I understand you're not above a little action! Got more than one man on the string now? A good girl by day, a swinger by night—"

"What? I don't know who or what—"

"You don't have to play coy with me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The prim and proper English lady, I know, I heard all about you; raw primitive emotions behind your cool maiden act!"

"I am not raw or primitive. Please, get away and leave me alone, and I'll forget I have ever seen you."

"Yes. A little resisting turns me on. Playing hard to get—" He was panting in her ear. "I love it. I LOVE a feisty girl."

"Please." Bree whispered, "No—"

"And do you know what I am going to do now?" His lips were two inches away from hers and Bree closed her eyes in despair and revulsion.

_"I don't know what Bree can do, but I know what I am going to do!"_ A voice came from behind him. A very firm hand pulled Reggie away from the girl and spun him around. "Keep your filthy hands off her, cousin!"

The next thing Reginald Nyland felt was a powerful blow to his jaw and he fell to the ground. A gasp was heard from the doorway.

After a moment of stunned silence, the sound of laughter filled the room, albeit hysterical giggles.

"My heavens, he's lost his rug!" Bree exclaimed between gasps.

Just then, the door opened and Carolyn came in, saying, "Bree, I hope you are not back here washing dishes in your pretty dress; Oh! What happened here?"

Claymore turned around to face her. "Do you remember telling me what that magazine editor Ellsworth Gorden tried to do to you when he thought YOU wrote _Maiden Voyage?"_

Grimacing, Carolyn nodded. "It's not something I am likely to forget."

"Well, Reg was trying the same moves on Bree. I just stopped him, that's all," he continued, as Daniel Gregg and Charles and Lynne Dashire entered the room, grim expressions on both of their countenances.

"You ran up the distress flag, my love," Daniel began, focusing on his wife. "What is wrong?"

"Bree, are you well?" Dash and Lynne asked simultaneously.

"What's going on here?" Blackie added, pushing his way into the room.

"Reggie backed me into a corner, but Claymore came to my rescue," Bree stated.

"Tris?" Daniel said, almost but not quite too loudly.

"Right here, guarding the door, Captain."

"May I get up?" Reggie whined from the floor.

Claymore put a foot on his cousin's chest.

"That looks like a no," Lynne commented. Making a face, she glanced at her step-grandchild. "I'm suddenly reminded of Princess Leia being kissed by that overgrown slug."

"Great comparison," Claymore said; his voice cold.

"Nyland—" Dash started.

"I can handle this, Dash," the other man interrupted him. The newcomers exchanged startled glances and Claymore gave the man on the floor a look of complete disgust. "I have something to say to you, and then I want you out of this town," he started, his voice quiet. "Reg, all my life I have envied you. Admired your looks, your charm; the way you got along with people: your job, your house, your wife and your children. All things you have, and I never will have." He stopped and swallowed slowly, and then continued. "I used to think that being a man — a gentleman, was all about the way you dressed—" He glanced over at Dash's elegant dress jacket for the evening, "Or about the way you can dance, or speak—" His eyes slid toward Daniel's, "Or how popular you are." He looked at Tristan Matthews, who was still keeping an eye on the door. "Or all the interesting things you can do; Your jobs, talents and such."

"Good, than I can—"

"But I was wrong. Very wrong," he went on, giving Reggie another nudge with his foot, pinning him more firmly to the linoleum floor.

Blackie moved over to stand near Bree and placed an arm around her. "Are you sure you are all right, sweetie?"

"My only wound is to my pride. I've simply GOT to talk to my godmother about how to defend yourself when you wearing a long dress."

"Pardon?"

"Shh," said Carolyn. "Claymore has the floor."

"And Nyland is pinned to it," Daniel added.

"—And I always thought you were all of those things I mentioned, but you aren't. You're a know-it-all jerk: a low-life water-rat slug who thinks he is hot stuff because he comes by those things naturally. But it's not about any of them. It's the way you think and live your life, and the friends you make along the way, especially when they are good ones that stick by you even when you do something jerky. Most people do sooner or later. Thank God I have them. You obviously don't. Now get up, get your hair, and get out of here. Take a cab, take a bus, or take your flashy rented car and GO. I'll send your clothes along when I damn well feel like it." Daniel swore he heard thunder. "Now get out of here! Get out of here, and don't come near this town or my friends ever again!"

"I need to pack," Reggie sputtered, still on the floor.

"I'll send your stuff to you, UPS — Third Class," Claymore added thoughtfully. "You can figure out how to explain it to your wife." Claymore yanked the other man to his feet. "Now leave, before I change my mind and have Ed arrest you!"

Indignation warred with pain and shock as Reggie pulled himself up to declare, "I should be the one filing charges!"

"I'm sure I can find a basement if we need one," Tristan remarked with a studied, innocuous air.

"He's not worth killing, lad," Daniel admonished. "Good thought though. Mr. Nyland, should you choose to do so, I am quite certain Bree would find it needful to file charges of her own."

"I just want him OUT of here," Bree stated grimly.

"I was only acting on what I heard—" Reggie started.

"You start repeating unfounded gossip—" Clay started, slowly clenching his fist.

"Never mind! I'm going! I'm going!" Reggie made a sprint toward the exit, pausing only to grab his hairpiece. A moment later he was out the back door.

"He's running like a rabbit," Daniel observed.

"Claymore, thank you," Bree reached for the older man's arm.

"I'd like to apologize for my cousin's actions," Claymore said, turning a shade whiter.

"That was quite a feat, Claymore," Daniel observed. "I never thought I would live to see the day, if you will pardon the pun. But you don't need to apologize. He's your cousin, not you, and I am VERY proud of what you just did! Now then, you are looking a little pale. Do you need to lie down? Like you had to when you told me off for giving your furniture away, so long ago?"

Claymore began to turn green. "I — I think I might need Dr. Lynne. It feels like I broke something."

"Not Reggie's jaw?" Tris mused from his station, "You hit him hard enough, Claymore."

"No," the older man answered, "I mean it! I believe I have broken my hand. I KNOW I heard something snap."

Lynne moved toward him. "Here, let me see." Claymore's right hand was swelling rapidly. "I think we better get you to my office," she went on. "I'd like to X-ray you."

Suddenly, Dash noticed tears gleaming in Bree's eyes. "Do you need to go with them? I swear if he hurt you—"

"I'm fine," Bree insisted. "Just — letting loose, that's all." She wiped under her eyes. "I just wish I knew what Reggie meant!"

"I know what he meant," Blackie said grimly, "What he meant to do, anyway. "Thank you, Claymore. I have a feeling the church elders wouldn't approve of me killing a visitor to Schooner Bay. Darn nuisance."

"That reminds me of why I came out here," Tris remarked. "I heard some gossip floating around this evening you two ought to know about, as it concerns you, Bree. Penny—"

"We can hear about that later," Lynne said briskly. "Bree, if you are really all right, I think Claymore, Dash and I will take the less public exit — out the back door. As I said, we need to get this hand under an X-Ray."

"I left my insurance card at home, Doctor." Claymore started, but Dash cut him off.

"Don't worry, Clay. "I'm picking up the check."

As they turned to go, Bree blurted, "Gr — Uncle Charlie, I'm sorry for making a hash of your event." For once, her British stiff upper lip and normally confident manner slipped.

Dash stopped in his tracks. "My dear girl, you did nothing wrong whatsoever, and the evening is hardly a loss. Nobody knows about Reggie's odious behavior outside family. However, this is not the time, nor the place, to discuss that. We SHALL, though. In the meantime, I have one order for you. If at all possible, you are to do — whatever the modern term is — and relax and enjoy the rest of this night. Blackwood, see to it."

"Yes, sir, I fully intend to."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to enjoy myself, whether I like it or not?" slipped out from Bree, who could not resist a good quip, even at her most upset.

Suddenly, Siegfried came bustling in, talking a mile a minute, "Sorry I meant to get here sooner — someoneisprojectinganSOS, but trying to get away from Mrs. Tuttle—"

"Sig!" Tristan groaned.

"He is improving," Blackie observed. "I caught most of it."

"We'll tell you about it, LATER," Daniel promised the agitated spirit.

"You'll tell us WHAT later? Bree, you could wake the dead!" a North England accent exclaimed a fraction of a second before Jason, Jim, and Simon appeared out of nowhere.

"Blast it! Anyone could have seen that," Daniel growled.

"We checked first," Jim defended them, holding out his hands, "Only family's around, so no reason to get in a thunder."

"That is beside the point!"

"It is also not our concern, Bree is," Simon cut in. "We heard your distress. The others would have been here, but Matthew is still on stage with Paige, Amos is occupied with a lady and cannot safely vanish, and Paul is likewise engaged."

"Naturally," Bree sniffled. Her tears were dry, but the effects lingered.

"This isn't a good time, much less place," Carolyn attempted to say.

"I promise, we will explain everything back at home," Daniel added. "You three are welcome to stay, of course. If anyone asks where you were earlier, we will say your plane was delayed."

"Just tell us, Bree, are you all right?" Jason demanded.

"Yes."

"And is in my care for the remainder of tonight," Blackie added firmly. "The next dance is mine. And so is every one after it. Tris, come on, I want you to play something wonderful."

"Isn't everything I play just that?"

"That's debatable," Sean snorted. "My ears still ring from that first late-night concert you gave."

"I've grown up since!"

"Indeed," the Captain nodded. "Return to duty, though, Seaman. I want to waltz with my wife."

As the first to head out, Blackie was immediately accosted as he started to step into the main room.

"Blackie!" Penny Hassenhammer shrilled, "I've been searching for you high and low! And, I just want to say how sorry I am, again, and see if — normally I would not be so bold, you understand, but in light of how you must be feeling and the hit your confidence surely took, thanks to that awful—"

"Awful?" Bree hissed, clutching Blackie's hand more tightly.

"Penelope, my advice as a pastor is for you to keep silent," Blackie said mildly, but his eyes blazed. "If I take your meaning, you are about to ask me to dance, but I have promised the rest of the evening to Br— to my lady here. So, while I'm touched by your concern, it is without cause. I'll see you Sunday at church."

"But I wanted to tell you what she — and HE—" she pointed toward Tris, still inside the kitchen, but visible, "Were doing at the mall!"

"She was an innocent observer when I made that clerk think I was going to buy the two-thousand dollar stereo," Tristan protested. "Harmless prank."

"We were just shopping," Bree said in a weary tone.

"He had his arm around you," Penny accused.

"I stumbled; he was steadying me."

"Uh-huh."

"My foot fell asleep."

"Blackie," Penny whined, "You don't believe this cock and bull story?"

"C.S. Lewis once admonished us to believe those who have proven credible, and both Tristan and Bree always have been, so I don't think it is a lie; in fact, I'm sure it is not."

"But—"

"Miss Hassenhammer, I would like you to stop maligning my _girlfriend,_ and go back to the dance," the reverend said firmly.

Penny looked from Blackie, to Bree, to Tris, whose expression had turned somehow into the paradoxical mix of boredom and amusement. "She is not my girlfriend, just a _friend,_ who is _female,"_ Tristan remarked casually. "Believe it or not, guys can have friends of the opposite gender without the world imploding."

"But—but I SAW you — with, her — and that millionaire guy!"

"We're friends, Miss Hassenhammer, nothing more," Bree said tightly. "Tris and Barnaby are like — no, they ARE family."

"And even if Bree and I weren't involved, which we are," Blackie said gently, "Penny, I am not interested in you that way. Only as your pastor, the same way as I am interested in my entire congregation."

"B-b-but—"

"But nothing, Penny," Blackie answered firmly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I promised the rest of the evening to Bree."

"And if I don't get to work, Sean and Molly will come looking for me and no one will get to dance," Tristan added cheerfully.

Penny wiped away a tear of sheer frustration. "I think you're wrong, all wrong," she finally said. "Don't come to me when she jilts you for someone better." Turning on her heel, she left them.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Blackie muttered, giving into temptation.

"Got that right," every male in the room, living and not, echoed.

Carolyn just shook her head. Really, they all should be admonished for being a bit rude, but then again, who was she to argue with honest truth? "We need to get back out to the party, Daniel," she said. "Bree is hostess of this affair, and really there are a bunch of us missing, all of a sudden. Now, we should go out there — one or two at a time. We don't want to look like a parade, and I don't know if Lynne and Charlie will be back, either."

"There are other dance partners out there besides that twit?" Jim asked.

"Of course," Daniel smiled. "This is a cotillion, after all! Bree, Blackie, why don't you two get back to the dance, first?" He winked. "You've been waiting for a dance the longest."

"Technically, you have been waiting for this waltz at a real cotillion for what, fifteen years? But I won't argue," Blackie grinned.

"Then I need to get moving!" Tris chortled. "Catch you later, people."

Blackie took Bree's arm. "Would you care to waltz, my lady?"

"I'd love to." Bree's face was glowing. What seemed like only moments later, Tris was back at his music post and the other ghosts could see them drifting among the other couples on the floor.

"I believe we're next?" Carolyn took her husband's arm.

"To the ends of the Earth, my dear," Daniel responded, and smiling, she tucked her arm through his.

It didn't take long before all the occupants of the kitchen were out on the dance floor and it took even less time for the word to get around among the rest of Captain Gregg's crew/family what had happened. Unobtrusively, the other ghosts took a turn to go check on Claymore's hand, but were stopped by Lynne, who had reported that the landlord HAD actually broken a bone, but it looked like a clean break, and to please; stop dropping by until the patient had been casted.

About a half-hour later, Daniel had returned from checking on his 'nephew.' He and Carolyn were once more on the dance floor when a very familiar waltz tune began.

"Finally!" Carolyn sighed. "Our waltz! With all the excitement, I thought maybe Tris had forgotten."

"I would not allow that, my dear lady."

With an ease that came with many years of practice, the couple moved to the music, lost in their own world. Finally, inevitably, the music headed toward a conclusion, and Carolyn and Daniel slowed on the dance floor.

"Margaret hasn't fainted, Daniel," Carolyn whispered, turning her face up to his.

"Let her," he answered, bending to kiss his wife. "I'm not going anywhere except nearer to you."

After what seemed like only moments, but was, in reality, much longer, the couple broke apart and Carolyn sighed deeply. "I love you, Daniel."

"As I love you."

She smiled. "Then all is as it should be, my darling, and not only for us." She nodded over toward a corner, where Blackie and Bree were dancing, or more precisely, embracing, with no eyes for anything but each other.

"Indeed."

"All in all, a most satisfactory evening," she nodded, pulling the Captain closer.

XXX

The cotillion finally broke up around midnight. Aside from the unpleasantness, it had been a lovely evening for everyone. Not all the surprises had been bad, either. At one point, Thom, with Candy's agreement, had let Tris take a break and dance with her, though it had been one of the more lively numbers. Taking a page from Jenny and Dave's book, Adam and Jess managed to be fairly calm about leaving Abby with the sitter for the longest time ever. Then, near the end of the affair, Daniel received a ghostly summons from Dash saying Claymore had taken the setting and casting of his hand "Like a man," and was asking if Daniel, Carolyn, Sean, Molly, Bree and Blackie could please drop by and see him at his apartments before heading home, if it was no trouble. After making sure that Devon could give Jon a ride home, since he was staying overnight anyway, of course, they did.

XXX

"How are you doing, old man?" Sean asked, as they came into Claymore's office/residence. "Daniel gave us the lowdown on what happened. Bravo! I told you your cousin wasn't worth impressing!"

"I guess we wasted weeks of lessons," Claymore sighed.

"How do you figure that, Clay?" Dash's eyebrows went up.

"You've been coaching me to look, act and behave like a gentleman, to be a man worthy of the name Gregg. I hardly think punching out someone, especially a relative, is indicative of being that." He sighed. "But don't worry, Bree. That's why I wanted you here tonight; to tell you that you'll still get your deal on the free rent. It isn't your fault I am too old to learn."

"Even Jesus used violence, when it was needed, as I recall," Blackie commented. "I expect the reason he told Peter to put away his sword was so that Old Pete didn't wind up on the neighboring cross for assault and battery. At least that was probably one reason. Cutting up the Emperor's troops was not a smart plan, especially when you don't know how to use a blade."

"What's more, gentlemen always defend the honor of ladies, even at the risk of publicly humiliating themselves," Daniel insisted. "Do you not recall that I attacked the editor of that feminine scandal sheet with a belaying pin and sword? At the time, I had yet to become easily tangible, or he would have felt greater damage than merely to his pride."

"And, showing that much nerve — to use physical force is a tremendous step for you, Claymore," Dash added. "My only regret is that it was not I who delivered the blow. However, I could consider haunting that twit that spread rumors, which is equally as vile."

"I hope Penny didn't get a chance to spread them too far," Bree sighed. "I'd hate to wonder if any of the other neighborhood hens will continue this."

"Maybe I DO need to do a little haunting—" Dash rubbed his chin.

"Whether you do or not, I'm planning on collecting texts pertaining to the sin of gossip and of breaking the commandment about bearing false witness," Blackie remarked with a deceptive serenity. "Think the printer would murder me if I gave him a rush job to change the church bulletin? Might as well nip it in the bud immediately, don't you think?"

"Oh, no need to put in a rush job. I'm rather adept at making changes in print," Captain Gregg smirked.

"Tell me about it, Unc," Claymore said daringly. "How well I remember — rotten dresses, spoiled lobster, crazy cottage, fake — it took me ages to live that down! Of course," he smiled, "now it's almost as much of a family-funny as your skeleton in the cellar."

Thunder rolled.

_**"Unc?"**_

"Just wanted to see if you were paying attention," Claymore grinned wider. "Blame it on the pain medication, and pardon me if I don't salute you, but I could knock myself out with this cast."

"It was not my skeleton, either."

"I KNOW it wasn't YOU. I meant it was yours by — ownership, as it were; it being stashed in the cellar of your house for a hundred some-odd years."

"It was your skeleton, then. You owned the place at the time," Sean winked.

Claymore rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but I never lived at Gull Cottage; Non-ownership by non-possession of said-property, or something like that. Ask Adam."

"That is true," Carolyn nodded. "But you mention did something about my lease not including bodies in the cellar — listen, we are getting derailed here."

"Right," Bree nodded. "Claymore, you defended my honor tonight, and that's something I won't forget, ever. You're a hero as far as I am concerned, and I just can't take six months free rent from you."

"What?" he blinked.

"Wasn't that what you, Grandfather and Captain Gregg worked out?"

"Yes, but, if I really passed the test, so to speak, like Dash and Captain Gregg say I have, it means I should be giving you rent—"

"You almost sound like you are volunteering, Claymore," Dash interjected.

"Not volunteering, but I want to do what is right." Even saying this, he did look slightly pained.

"How about three months?" Molly asked. "That would be a good compromise, wouldn't it, Sean? Dash? Daniel?"

"If everyone agrees, yes," the Captain finally nodded.

"Oh, absolutely," Claymore nodded. "Suits me! Yes, indeed-y!" He paused. "I — don't suppose anyone else in town figured out what happened? With my cousin, I mean?"

"I don't think so," Carolyn said. "Why do you ask? What you did is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oh, I know," Claymore shrugged. "But you know — I did it on impulse. Almost without thinking, and although I am happy with; One, not feeling like my cousin is better than I am, and Two, that Bree is okay, I guess a little part of me — maybe more than a little, LIKES being a hero, but just you guys know about it. Not that that is a BAD thing, but face it, it's not like the fame of Candy making the home run that wins the baseball championship, or Jon sinking the winning basket, or the Captain fighting at the Battle of Vera Cruz, and being a hero everyone knows about. Can you understand that?"

"It's better, well, maybe not better than winning a battle," Daniel corrected him, fingering one ear, "But counts for more in the long run, than victory in a game."

"I guess," Clay nodded again. "My only problem now is how to get day-to-day stuff done for the next month or so. I honestly don't think I can run a calculator left-handed, or learn to. Really well, that is. My brain doesn't work that way. Doing dishes, driving — it's all going to be weird. And if nobody knows what happened. I don't know how I am going to explain breaking my hand to begin with, without looking like a klutz all over again."

"I'm sure we'll all be glad to help you," Lynne replied firmly. "But, you need to rest now."

"I know I should, but actually, I feel wide awake. Mostly because my hand still hurts, but that's beside the point." He shrugged. "I guess you guys need to leave. It's getting late, no, actually it IS late. I guess I will be fine here by myself." He winced.

"Are you all right, Claymore?" the Captain asked.

"Yeah, just moved wrong; I need to get a couple of fluffy pillows to rest my hand on. Or maybe I can sleep sitting up; my arm won't move as much in a chair. With this cast on I am reminded of that old _Gilligan's Island _episode where he gets the bowling ball stuck on his hand. And ya know; I have never broken a bone before."

"Well, the pain meds should kick in soon," Lynne said around a yawn.

"And I am keeping you all up," Claymore frowned. "I just wanted to apologize and say thank you, and I guess make sure you weren't mad at me, for kinda breaking up the evening."

"I know I'm not," Bree answered, bending over and giving the older man a kiss on the cheek.

"Nor I," Carolyn added, kissing him on the forehead as a mother would an ailing child, and then again on his other cheek.

"It's a doctor's business to be up at all hours," Lynne said with a wink. "We'll get you your pillows, Claymore."

Captain Gregg extended his left hand for the other man to shake. "Claymore, my boy, I AM proud of you."

"I think that means more to me than _anything,_" Claymore managed to choke out.

"Sean and I are staying here tonight to make sure you don't want for anything," Molly added softly. "More than likely you will wake again around four, and we will be ready with more medicine, and if you need anything else, we will be here."

"Thank you very much. I still want to know what I am going to tell people who ask if I have been in an accident, though."

"Something will come to mind," Daniel said, rubbing his beard. "If nothing else, just say you don't want to talk about it, and look mysterious."

"That reminds me!" Blackie spoke up, pulling a white envelope out of his pocket. "This card is for you, Claymore."

A little warily, Claymore fumbled it open with his good hand, and then began to laugh as he read it. "Are you sure Tris didn't make this?" he asked.

"Nope," Blackie shook his head. "But he DID pop up to Keystone and find it for me. Called me and read it out loud and I thought it was perfect."

"What does it say?" Carolyn asked, curiously.

Claymore read the card aloud: _"Dear Claymore, we are all sorry for your accident;_ that's handwritten: then the card says: _**Here is a sign for you to hang on your sling that everyone can read, instead of asking you the inevitable question when they see you:**__**"Oh! Did you have an accident**__**?"**_

He paused.

"Come on, Claymore; tell us," Dash prodded, "What does the sign say?"

Claymore took the pre-punched sign and clipped it to his pajama top, and the crew started to smile as they read the answer:

_**"OF COURSE IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! WOULD I DO THIS TO MYSELF ON PURPOSE?"**_

They all joined him in laughing. Shortly after, the crew dispersed, Sean and Molly remaining behind with Claymore, as they had promised. It took a while, but finally, the hero of the evening was fast asleep.


	14. AFTERMATH

**14 - AFTERMATH**

Devon Miles was still up when the Greggs arrived back home at Gull Cottage. "Jon went on to bed. I told him I would wait up for you two. How's the patient?" he asked, looking up from the thick book that had been absorbing his attention.

"Doing well, remarkably so," Daniel admitted. "Despite all the lessons, a part of me still expected him to take full advantage of the situation. Tell me, did you ever see that play, the _Man Who Came to Dinner?"_ When his 'cousin' nodded, the Captain went on, "Sufficed to say that back then Claymore did a blasted fine impression of the titular character."

Devon took this in with a nod. "Should Miss Tegan ever choose to stage that show, do be sure and give me sufficient warning so I can place it on my calendar. In fact, I'd like to discuss season tickets with her before I leave, unless it would cause another situation that has the potential to incite a duel?"

Carolyn smiled. "I don't think that situation will arise again, unless Sig knows for sure it is you, flirting and not 'Daniel gone wild.' Siegfried is very fond of Bron."

"But won't make a definite move," the Captain chortled.

"Why not?" Devon asked. "She IS a very attractive woman, and it doesn't take a ghost to see that!"

"No idea," Daniel shrugged. "Perhaps he is afraid of rushing her. But they have their own calendar. If it is going to happen, it will."

Seeing the sidelong look her husband was giving her, Carolyn held up her hands, "I promise not to match-make them."

"Or anyone else in Schooner Bay, at least in the immediate family," the ghost answered, and then added, as an afterthought. "Now if you knew some woman who could get interested in Claymore—"

"Heroism of tonight notwithstanding, Cousin Daniel, I believe Blackwood is the one who would know more about miracles. Still, you never know."

Daniel laughed. "I'm afraid you have that right, but tonight DOES prove there is hope for everyone." He gestured to the book Devon was holding. "I see you kept yourself amused. We are sorry to run so late."

"Quite all right," his look-alike nodded. "I'm something of a night-owl. Too many years in the OSS and other organizations. I'm almost never in bed before one, and it is worse with a time change."

"What were you reading?" Carolyn asked.

"A murder mystery that was lying on your coffee table. I was careful to not lose the original reader's place."

"Jon's I believe," Daniel said. "He loves them and he is trying to help Barnaby find a mystery plot that hasn't been used by any of the masters."

"That and he forgets them after a while, and goes back to re-read," Carolyn added.

Devon nodded as he placed the volume back down. "Unfortunately, I tend to recall who did it within a chapter or two, so it is difficult to enjoy a second reading."

"But it is a great way to study how to write one," Carolyn pointed out. "You know; because you KNOW who did it, you can see all the seeds that get dropped along the way. Nobody forgets the ones with trick endings, like _Murder on the Orient Express, And Then There were None, _or _The Murder of Roger Akroyd."_

"Bron said you people presented _And Then There Were None," _Devon frowned. "And I missed it. Any chance you will stage another mystery soon?"

"You will have to ask her."

"Hmm. No idea at all?"

"To be honest, Devon, the shows we do very heavily depend on the people available. And sometimes, the right types to cast just aren't available," Daniel explained, "Hence, older shows, smaller casts. Claymore has been trying to talk Bron into doing _Spoon River Anthology_. He wants badly to play one of the parts. I not sure if he quite understands that even though it is called Reader's Theater, that all the parts are memorized."

"But then again, he might," Carolyn put in. "He did manage Fiddler Jones, Daniel, for the variety theater evening not long ago."

"True."

Devon tried, unsuccessfully, to hide a yawn. "Dreadfully sorry," he nodded. "I do believe I am starting to tire. May we continue this conversation tomorrow over brunch? My treat. Maybe we can even drop by and see how Claymore is doing and sign his cast."

"That sounds lovely," Carolyn agreed, stifling her own yawn.

"Then I suggest we call it a night, and I will see you in the morning?" Devon asked. "I'm an early riser, and I CAN make coffee."

"Wonderful."

XXX

After a delightful brunch at the Triple A, Devon, with a touch of regret, caught a cab to the airport, though he did promise not to be a stranger and got an assurance from Carolyn and Daniel to make sure the musical part of the clan got busy on that record.

As the Greggs headed toward home, Daniel turned to his stepson. "Jonathan, I thought you were going to ask Bethany to the dance, but you went stag. Surely she did not turn you down?"

The boy shrugged. "Yeah, she did, but not because she didn't want to go. When she was babysitting her kid step-sister and half-brother, she took them to the beach and wound up getting a really bad sunburn and stung by a jellyfish. So, she wasn't up to cotillions. And, it wasn't just an excuse. When I called her step-dad's place to ask to talk to her about it, the cleaning lady said that she had a fever and was doped up on pain pills. She got blisters, even."

Carolyn winced. "I guess she hasn't been on the beach much?"

"This is her first step-parent with ocean-front property," Jonathan replied. "I think she's had a lot of them."

Daniel shook his head at the idea of going through spouses like pairs of socks.

"I wonder if Reggie has left town?" Carolyn mused.

"He better have," Daniel intoned. "Furthermore, Penelope Hassenhammer needs to learn to keep her mouth shut."

"You'll have to see if Bethany is interested in coming to another family gathering here, sometime, Jonathan," Carolyn urged. "Abigail's christening will be soon, and the holidays are coming up." She smiled. "She wouldn't get burned on the beach in November or December. It would be cold, but it's still beautiful."

Sounding as if he didn't care one way or the other, the boy lifted his shoulders as he replied, "Sure, I guess."

Daniel gave his wife's hand a quick squeeze. Years of experience made her know that he was signaling her to stop with the match-making talk — again.

Half turning to catch his eye, she wrinkled her nose pertly, silently communicating by her expression, _"spoilsport."_

"So are you guys working on the book today?" Jon asked, after they had reached Gull Cottage, and gone inside.

"I thought we might for a while," Daniel nodded, "Unless you had something in mind we should do?"

Jon shook his head. "Not a thing. Actually, thinking about Bree's incident, I figured maybe you two should work on the _Maiden Voyage _story."

His mother turned red as she recalled the _Va-va-va-voom_ calls, while the Captain's expression was a look of amusement, a hint of embarrassment, and just a touch of recalled fury over what that cretin Ellsworth Gorden had tried.

"It seemed logical to me," Jon grinned. "It's a nice day out though. Maybe you could write up on the widow's-walk, or out on the Master Cabin balcony and enjoy that at the same time? I was thinking about going fishing with Kyle and Conner."

"Well, just remember, you catch, you clean," Carolyn winked.

Jon rolled his eyes. "Like you would let me forget — Hey, gutting the fish really isn't that bad; Most of the time we clean 'em down at beach anyway. Send the, uh, leftovers back to the place they came from, you know? I'll bring a cooler and ice to keep them fresh after." He grinned. "You may have to invite EVERYONE over. Fact is; I bet Mr. Miles should have stayed. I'm planning on catching a LOT of fish."

"And what if you don't, my boy?" Daniel raised an eyebrow.

"There's a sale on chicken?" he hedged. "Or pizza. Pizza is always good."

"Jonathan Muir, you are going to turn into a pizza," his mother laughed.

"It's easy, though."

"The lad has a point," Daniel agreed.

"Let's wait and see how the fishing goes. Then we will worry about it."

"Who's worried?"

"Nobody," Carolyn smiled. "Not now."

"Right," Daniel nodded. "Reggie is gone, Claymore is feeling better, and all is well with the world."

"Knock on wood."

"I agree. Now get out of here, son. You'll be late."

"Aye-aye, sir!"

XXX

For the next few hours, Jonathan fished and Carolyn and Daniel wrote. By the time 4:00 rolled around, they were ready for a break and dinner when Jon arrived home with his catch.

"Can we fry the fish, please? It's faster," Jon asked. "If it is okay, I need to be somewhere tonight, too."

"Movies with your friends?" Carolyn asked.

"Nope."

"What, then? I'm still allowed to ask, if you are taking the car."

Without the slightest bit of embarrassment, Jon glanced at his 'Dad' then replied, "Well, with you especially being concerned about and checking on Claymore got me thinking I ought to go see how Bethany's doing. She's been a good friend and I haven't checked on her since hearing how she was feeling bad." He shrugged. "It is only to Pripet. That's not too far away, really. You guys would have an evening to yourself to finish the story, or something."

"Or something," Carolyn echoed, "Jonathan, I think Bethany would like that very much! I know I would. You are sweet to think of it."

"Aw, Mom, I am NOT sweet!" He winked at his step-dad.

"Jonathan, you are still my son and not twenty-one yet. If I want to call you sweet, I will."

"So can we fry the fish now?"

"You want ME in the kitchen?"

Jon looked thoughtful. "Yeah, well, you could. Martha and Dad have taught you a lot."

"I'm honored by your confidence."

"I'll help," he volunteered.

"As will I," Daniel nodded.

"Then let's cast off!" Carolyn ordered with a laugh. "I do believe I'm hungry!" She paused to level a gaze at her husband, "But, I still can't get the coating to stick to the fish, so we either grill, broil, or you handle that part."

"Whatever way is quickest," John cut in.

"I can handle whatever you like, my darling," the ghost of Gull Cottage answered.

XXX

"_But Mr. Hilber, now that you have told me about your magazine's new image, I don't believe it fits in with mine," Mrs. Jones answered warily._

"_Oh, but it does!" the wolf responded, "I can see that by just looking at you! You know, Mrs. Jones, you are a very __**unusual **__woman."_

"_Uh, not really. I'm just an ordinary woman, with normal interests," Kathleen protested._

"_Fantastic! I was HOPING you would say that!" Hilber moved closer to the lady, who was now walking backwards._

"—_With two wholesome children," she went on. Mentioning children to playboys usually made wolves stop and think._

"_The best things in life are wholesome_—_" Hilber eyed her up and down._

"_I really don't understand what you are driving at," Kathleen answered, confused._

"_By the way, I liked the elegance, the refined, old-fashioned quality of your use of the word, 'ravish'," he answered, backing her up against the paneled wall._

_Kathleen's expression went from worried to shock in a split second. "RAVISH? __**That **__word was in my story?"_

_Hilber snaked an arm around the woman. "Of course _—_ we didn't change one single word!" He leaned in, ready to nibble her neck._

"_Well SOMEBODY did!" Kathleen was furious._

"_Mrs. Jones, my magazine has relaxed its old-fashioned inhibitions and morals… why don't you relax yours?" Suddenly, he had both arms around her and was about to place a quite unwelcome kiss on her neck. "I'll assume all the guilt, just like the bo'sun_—"

"_Mr. Hilber _—_" Kathleen started, all of her fear gone. If you don't get your hands off of me, this moment, you'll get a __knee where you'll feel it most!"_

XXX

"My good woman! You said no such thing to that lecher, Gorden!" Daniel sputtered. "He stalked you a bit more, talking about what the first mate did, and then—"

"No, but I wish I had, and this IS supposed to be fiction, you know, Daniel," Carolyn gazed up at him from the chair in front of their old-fashioned desk. "Do we REALLY want to chance that slime-brained oaf reading this and hitting us with a libel suit because he recognizes himself? Adam would not thank us."

"But you're leaving things out. About now is when I appeared with my sword and belaying pin and rescued you!"

"I know, darling. I haven't forgotten, and we'll get there. Look, you are the hero of this scene, you should write the next part. I laugh every time you tell this story to someone."

"It was hardly a laughing matter," he remarked gruffly. "A lady's honor never is, nor is the defense of it."

"I agree, but the shock value is funny. Did we tell Bree this story? It might make her feel better about Reggie. She could use a good chuckle anyway."

"Claymore mentioned something when he told us what Nyland did. But with so much going on, I don't remember if she knows the original story or not," Daniel answered. "Although Blackie has heard the tale, so I imagine by now he has told her something of it."

"He can't tell it like you can."

"Really my dear, you exaggerate my abilities. I—"

Just then, they heard the doorbell ring downstairs.

"I do not!" she countered as she rose and started toward the front door.

"Yes you do, and I can get to the door faster than you can," he answered, morphing into his Daniel Miles face.

Before she could form another point to debate, he was downstairs and letting someone in.

"Ah, good evening, Blackie, Bree," Carolyn heard Daniel say as she descended the stairs to the foyer. "Do come in!"

"We were just talking about you!" Carolyn exclaimed, glad it was them, not an outsider. She watched as Daniel switched back to his more familiar look.

"Good things, I hope?" Bree asked, "I KNOW you aren't the gossips that the hens in town are."

"We were wondering if you had heard the infamous _Maiden Voyage _tale."

"Blackie told me a bit. Enough to let me know that I am not the only woman in this circle to be accosted by a — a—"

"My dear, the appropriate word is far too foul to be said by you or in the presence of two ladies," Daniel interjected. "Be assured I did think it though; and Blackwood, I cannot apologize for doing so."

"I was trying to think of the right old-English word for what he is, that is still acceptable to say out loud. Would Poltroon fit?" Bree asked.

"That's what Daniel called him," Carolyn giggled, as they all sat down in the living room.

"Great minds?"

"Precisely," the Captain nodded. "So tell me, what brings you two out this way? Bree, I thought you would be relaxing and recovering from your triumph and ordeal, and Blackie, you are usually tweaking your sermon on Saturday nights."

"I've been re-arranging my work schedule of late," he winked, reaching for Bree's hand.

"Oh?"

"Well, I'm a pastor, not the Almighty. I like a date on Saturday nights as well as the next guy."

Bree flushed slightly.

"No need to blush, my dear," Daniel smiled, glancing at his beloved. "I feel the same way Blackie does. There is no one I would rather spend time with than Carolyn."

"Well, I suppose we're officially a couple," the young lady smiled.

"Oh, well, we sort of realized THAT," Daniel answered, giving his ear a tug.

"And now the town does," Blackie pointed out. "Penelope Hassenhammer definitely does."

"You want it to be known, don't you?" Carolyn frowned.

"Yes and no; I'm glad for everyone to know such a classy lady will be seen on my arm, but don't want people to begin speculating, gossiping, or pushing us in either direction, or to get lectured for not telling my sisters and parents at least twenty-four hours earlier," Blackie explained.

"I really don't think Barnaby, Jess, Lynne or Thom will scold, or let anything slip to your mom, Blackie. And if it did, perhaps it would be only a clue? Maybe enough for you to STOP getting those probing letters you have mentioned about whether or not you are socializing enough, or locking yourself away like—"

"—St. John?" Carolyn interjected, with a look in Daniel's direction. "Remember, I DO know whereof you speak."

"Ah yes, dear, dear, Harriet," Daniel smirked ironically.

"You know, I do have something I am very grateful to Harriet for," Carolyn said, leaning toward Daniel slightly.

"Really? Speak on, dear one."

"Honestly, love, I don't even know if YOU remember."

"How often have I told you about elephants and ghosts?"

"Oh, yes. Promise not to laugh?"

"Of course!"

"It was after that evening we stayed in and worked on your Memoirs and Harriet, Martha and the kids went to the movies. She came home and barged into our cabin; you popped out and left behind our wine glasses, and your pipe. She was convinced I was entertaining SOMEone, so you got helpful; that's in quotes! And the next day you left a bouquet of flowers and a note where you knew she would find them, hoping she would be satisfied then that I was seeing someone, and not "all alone"."

"I remember, but how did that make you grateful to me? At the time, you said it only made matters worse."

"Because of the note you left with the flowers," Carolyn blushed, and quoted the missive from memory: _"Dearest Carolyn, last evening was the sweetest ecstasy I shall ever know. The beauty of the moment was surpassed only by the beauty of you, my love." _She squeezed his hand. "I found the card after Harriet left. It was under the vase on the hall table. I carried that note with me for a long time, Daniel. And I still have it."

"You have given me ten-thousand reasons to write such notes," he answered tenderly.

No one spoke at all for a few moments, but finally Blackie cleared his throat. "There was another reason we stopped by," he said, finally, still clasping Bree's hand. Coming back to himself, Daniel lifted a brow, silently prompting the pastor to keep speaking. "We — just wanted to thank you again, once more, in private," Blackie went on, as Bree nodded. "I am eternally in Claymore's debt for what he did yesterday evening, rescuing Bree, and I am not discounting that, one iota. In fact, we still want to do something extra-special for him later, when he is feeling up to it, but—"

"But what?"

"But you, Daniel, and you, Carolyn, deserve very special thanks, because if you hadn't agreed to spend your own time to help Claymore get his Gregg-ness together, which in turn would help Bree, I don't care to think what COULD have happened in kitchen last night. And even if Bree HAD managed to fight Nyland off, it would no doubt have become a lot more public, and it would have taken ages for the biddies like Darlene, Jane and Margaret to stop jabbering about the whole affair, and more speculations being thrown around about someone whom I care for very much, and who deserves none of it at all. So for this, I am forever in your debt."

"No, friends can never be in debt, except to love each other," Carolyn demurred.

"So says St. Paul indeed," Blackie agreed. "But we still wanted to say thank you."

"And I wanted to tell you what excellent teachers/coaches you both are," Bree added. "Claymore Gregg really came through!"

"Thank you," Daniel nodded. "There is STILL one thing that puzzles me though."

"Yes?"

"Who in the blasted blue-eyed world taught Claymore how to throw a punch? It wasn't me! And I doubt Sean or Dash did, either."

"Don't look at me," Carolyn countered, "Molly, Bron, Lynne and I only got together a wardrobe for him and taught him how to waltz."

"Divine providence?" Blackie suggested, and squeezed Bree's hand, once more.

"I think it's the only answer," Daniel agreed, with a laugh. "This time, Claymore truly saved the day, and I shall not forget it."

XXX

Blackie and Bree stayed for another half-hour and then left, saying they thought they would get a late dessert at Norrie's. "You could always come along," they said, but Carolyn and Daniel shook their heads.

"We ought to rest. Church tomorrow, you know."

"True. Goodnight, you two — and pleasant dreams."

As the couple walked back to the living room from the foyer, Daniel turned to his lady. "I suppose we could get another half-hour or so in, and finish this chapter, my dear."

"Actually, I have a better idea," Carolyn gave her husband a look.

"Oh?" An eyebrow went up. "You changed your mind? You'd like dessert after all? Very well, I—"

She put a gentle finger over his lips, stopping him from speaking further. "Actually, I WAS thinking about the story, but not about writing it, exactly," she answered, as Daniel sat on the couch. A moment later, Carolyn had slipped onto his lap.

"My dear! He started, surprised, and then pulled her into an embrace. "This isn't writing at all!"

"All this _Maiden Voyage_ talk prompted me to think about something," Carolyn murmured, laying her head on Daniel's shoulder.

"Oh?" he answered; his mind definitely NOT on the story at hand.

"Yes. I was wondering: Do you remember if I ever thanked you properly for rescuing me from Ellsworth Gorden?"

"You offered to remove my boots, as the stowaway in our — my — story did, as I recall. Not that you could, at that point," he whispered into her ear.

"I am fully aware of that," she sighed. "I was just thinking that since we were hand-fasted for eight years, and have been duly married for almost three, I know of other things to remove than your boots, and any number of ways to thank you for rescuing me, Daniel. Unless, of course, you would rather write—"

"Say no more. It can wait, love. There is always tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow—" he answered as he scooped his lady up in his strong arms and headed toward the stairs.

End


End file.
